


What We Left at Mt. Wakare

by TheTempest



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Anal Sex, Backstory, Fever Dreams, Flashbacks, Light Bondage, M/M, Rivalry, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2018-12-11 13:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11715072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTempest/pseuds/TheTempest
Summary: Days before Shen must take part in the Takanu Ceremony and ascend as his generation's Eye of Twilight, Master Kusho confesses there is one last trial he must complete before he can be permitted to become the next Watcher of Stars -- that there is still one last thing he has yet to part with. Told only that he must journey with Zed to the Kinkou Temple abandoned in Mount Wakare, Shen hopes to there discover what keeps him from fulfilling his duty.





	1. Incomplete

Trees. They stood, scattered across the mountains, hills, and valleys of the lush Ionian landscape. Feathering a region already dusted with vibrant, exotic flora -- where wild magic pulsed and thrived within all forms of life.  
   
They were massive creations. Fearsome even. But in the way a deity might command awe or reverence from those gazing with wonder from bellow. They were Ionia's towering giants, more ancient than the myriad of spiritual dogmas, arts, and teachings offered by its rich cultures. Their very roots hugged the earth, firm and unrelenting, grounded by their infinity. Grounded by the laws of the world itself.  
   
It felt as though Ionia would sooner crumble beneath either nature’s cataclysmic touch or man’s own folly. As though all of Valoran might be swept away before these regal beasts, robust and true to their design, would fall. And hundreds of years later, here they remained. Untouched. Solid. At perfect balance, withstanding every wave of chaos that accompanied each age of the world.  
   
It was here that the Kinkou settled and founded their order. Here, beneath the heavy canopy and protection of these stalwart giants, did they establish their own unwavering belief in the balance of their universe -- and more importantly, their roles in maintaining that order. They listened to these giants, learned lessons from their tenacious instinct to survive. To be indomitable but fair. Grounded yet versatile. And most importantly, to be faithful and resolute in recognizing that the Kinkou might maintain the fragile stability of their world through the balance of discord and order.  
   
And if only it were so simple. But men are not _trees_ – who stand, cold and unfeeling from cradle to grave. Detached and distant. Who are without egos or desires. Ambitions and dreams. Who would weep, and rage, and love all within moments of one another.

  
Or at least, not _all_ men.  
   
Shen walked purposefully between the beautifully crafted buildings that collectively made the Kinkou Clan’s compound. Though hidden deep within the forest, it sat within a clearing – the sky apparent above them, but the surrounding woods largely served to block the light. Only at noon, when the sun sat at its peak high above them did daylight burst through the opening and set the village aglow. The fine metal accents fixed atop the large wooden architecture of the compound shined, beautiful despite the rust and wear that had collected over the years.

But they would likely soon be scrubbed clean. The Takanu Ceremony would soon be upon them. And Shen was but days away from completing his final trial, his right of passage — then the sacred Spirit Blade and duty of the Eye would be his honor and burden to bear. To transcend and dance between the mortal world and the ethereal planes of the Spirit Realm.

 _His_ duty alone. His entire life’s purpose. The very reason he had spent years beating down every last ounce of humanity within him that might conflict with the untainted judgement expected of the Eye. All he had sacrificed.

Shen released a breath he did not realize he was holding.

Fellow members of his clan greeted him as he passed, to which he offered a simple nod of acknowledgement and continued to make his way towards the main temple — where Master Kusho had requested his immediate attendance. Shen wasted little time in ascending the steps and firmly sliding the heavy wooden doors aside, quietly making his way to the center of the dimly lit room; Kusho already seated and patiently awaiting to receive him.  
   
 “Peace be upon you, Master”, he offered in greeting, taking a seat only after Kusho gestured languidly with his hand to the spot in front of him. Shen mimicked his father, tucking his feet beneath him, allowing himself only the most minute of adjustments before giving the man all of his attention.

“Upon us all”, Kusho responded warmly in turn, a free hand carefully settled on his white beard. “You seem well. I take it that means you are ready for your ceremony”, there was a pride in his voice, but something trailed faintly after it. A muted kind of sorrow.

“I am, Master”. Shen could not blame him. It must not have been easy to know your son would soon unflinchingly witness your torture entirely unfazed -- undisturbed and unaffected.

“Perhaps more so than I! Bahahaha!!”, the sudden burst seemed to warm the cold room, but the good-natured remark earned no response from Shen — his posture remained firm and unchanging, his golden eyes failed to reflect any reaction at all. The last remnants of laughter faded in the room, and the mood with it — replaced only by a heavy, persisting silence.

“…do you know why I called you here today?”, his tone had shifted. His voice, now deep, resonated with all the seriousness one might have expected of their leader.

“I assumed it related to the Takanu Ceremony, Master”, he replied plainly.

“…That it does…that it does…”, wrinkled hands finally ceased in their exploration of his beard, choosing instead to settle on his lap. Kusho spoke delicately, as though he were measuring Shen’s reactions.

“…There is one last mission…a trial of sorts… one that you _must_ complete before I can allow you to take part in the Takanu. And you must leave _immediately_. Tonight”.

Shen’s posture snapped straight, having been caught completely off guard by the sudden turn of events. His attention piqued, and words flowed from his characteristically restrained lips “Tonight?... But the Ceremo—”

“Will be here upon your _return_. And by then…perhaps… I will permit you to take part”, he interrupted reassuringly. It took greater effort than Shen cared to admit to relax the stiffness that was slowly building in his shoulders. And what little tension had begun to subside in his muscles quickly returned when he found himself pressing his point.

“Master. Forgive my bluntness, but surely a mission can wait until _after_ the ceremony... How can we possibly postpone a trial of passage as sacred to our order as—”

“Because if you have any hope of escaping the confines of your soul’s morality and ascending as this generation’s Eye of Twilight… then you _must_ complete this one last thing…”. Confusion flooded Shen’s mind, filled his throat and prevented the formation of words anything close to coherent. So he remained silent. Resigned himself to trust in his father’s judgement.

“You are confused…”, Kusho observed. “You believe yourself ready… We all do… And for the most part, you are... I could not be more proud….After all, you’ve trained all your life for this…. Our order has watched you. Supported you. Guided you..”. Shen sat motionless, almost eerily statuesque. If the words had reached him, he gave no sign of it.

“I speak to you now not only as your Master… but as a _father_ who knows his son…”. Still nothing. Shen might as well have truly been carved of stone, a detail that left Kusho with as much pride as a teacher as it did disappointment as a father — _'Perhaps we taught him too well'_ , he thought.

Or so many would come to believe. 

“..There is still… much within you Shen.. much that you have yet to finish… much that you have yet to _part_ with…”, a heavy hand rested almost pitifully on the brunette’s shoulder, and the tension there seemed to fade. “…and they are... well... I'm afraid they are things that you cannot _keep_ … As the Watcher of Stars, you must be untainted by prejudice… by ego… by emotion of any kind… The Eye must be—”

“Blind to fear, to hate, to love — all things that sway from the equilibrium”, Shen finished. The words all but ingrained in the forefront of his mind since childhood. And like a mantra, he felt a wave of numbing calmness wash over him. But he could not, for the life of him, fathom what would lead his father to believe that he had not successfully relinquished himself of those chains. “There is no need for explanation. I trust in your decision Master”

And with the prodigious discipline he was known for, he closed the matter by completing his thought, “What is the mission? This trial?”

Kusho waited for a moment, as though he had expected more resistance. And once again, he was measuring how much his son had grown over the years. Shen wore a simple black shinobi Shozuku, a standard attire within the clan — though his sleeves, which had been drawn up and folded to allow breathability in the summer heat, exposed the well defined shoulders and arms of a man who relentlessly tested and pushed his body to its breaking point. The muscle definition made all the more apparent by the dancing candle-light. He was built broad to say the least, with a wide-set breadth of shoulders — but his quickness of foot betrayed his size and caught many off guard. His hair was cropped short, close to his skull. Black indoors but deepest of browns in the daylight. Masks were not worn within the compound, and golden eyes sat upon a firm but unmistakably handsome face, which wore its characteristically stoic expression.

Kusho spared one last moment of appreciation before carefully revealing the first shred of details, “You are to travel to the Wakare Mountains… One of our clan’s temples remains there… though it has not been used in a great many years… There. You will find it there”, Shen raised his head questioningly, a wordless gesture to show he was waiting for his father to continue. But when he was met with only silence and a controlled gaze, he lowered his head in understanding. Kusho smiled warmly, even proudly perhaps. If his father was being cryptic, it was always with purposeful intention.

“I leave tonight then”

“Yes, tonight”, Kusho confirmed.

“Then with your permission, I will take my dismissal and begin making preparations for the journey” he announced, slowly raising from his sitting position on the floor and offering his father a bow of respect. Upon receiving a nod from Kusho, Shen turned to exit the temple. But seconds after his fingers brushed the indented handle, his father called out to him.

“Shen”

The golden-eyed stoic paused, the sliding doors open just enough to let daylight filter into the room. He glanced over his shoulder, “Master?”

“….You are to take Zed with you”.

Silence fell. A silence that was deafening. It filled the room like smoke and made all else fade to obscurity.

Seconds passed, then minutes — the two merely watching one another. Waiting. Shen’s sense of time seemed to muddle, the seconds blending together, and he almost wondered if he had imagined the entire exchange altogether — but he knew better than to fool himself. The restraint exercised between them was admirable. Kusho seemed prepared for questions or resistance he ultimately knew would not come. And Shen made no move to speak. But then, perhaps nothing needed to be said.

Years ago, it would have been commonplace for Kusho to have the two of them be assigned together. Few, if any, could keep up with the unforgiving pace and expectations Shen set during missions. And Zed, for all intents and purposes, refused to tolerate anyone less than his equal. And few had the stamina to try. Though neither of them would ever outwardly admit it, they dreaded having to work apart. In the rare instances that they did, they each handled the undesirable change differently. Shen would obediently accept those assigned to him — though make no effort to curb or adjust his pace, perhaps almost passive aggressively. Zed, on the other hand, exercised no such moderation — and wasted no time in ensuring that his pitiable companions were made aware of their “infinitely vast incompetence, of which the universe had no metric to account for”.

The fewer fellow clansmen able and willing to work with him, the more often he was paired with Shen. At which time, Kusho had an irritatingly knowing smile plastered on his face as he watched in quiet observation as the once _vast_ list of available candidates would mysteriously dwindle until only the two were available to attend each other's missions. At which point, neither of them would make any _genuine_ complaints against the arrangement. It was an argument ridden, rivalry driven, rage-inducing dynamic. And a match made in heaven.

But it did not last.

Everything changed when the Golden Demon entered their lives. The kinship and trust they had fostered over the years, the very same ties that had once held their makeshift family together, had been torn apart at the seams. Their bonds had been tested, and it failed to survive those long and arduous days. Shen vaguely remembered the flood of disappointment that had consumed him then — the helplessness of watching them drift apart. Kusho seemed to follow his thoughts exactly, and his next words echoed through the silence.

“I believe your brother to be trapped…lost in the days we spent pursuing Khada Jhin…” Shen involuntarily turned away from the mention of the name, like poison. He felt something acerbic in the back of his throat. But outwardly, he seemed as still as a tree.

“We were _all_ there”, he countered. “All _three_ of us endured and witnessed the same horrors”, his tone contained only a hint of something akin to resentment. It was the first real sign that he was human at the core — but it took great effort to hide. It was a sensitive topic for them all. And one rarely discussed. They had each dealt with the weight of those years differently. It had taken a toll on all of them, physically and mentally. One glance at their master, and the now dull wash of gray upon his once famously vibrant red beard was a testament of how much their chase had drained and aged the man.

As for Shen, he had found safety in his convictions. He healed by devoting himself entirely to his training. Determined to fulfill his duty. He hastened his efforts to become the new Watcher of the Stars — the Eye of Twilight. And in the process, he buried his pain, and everything that came with it.

But Zed?

Shen alone knew how deeply his brother had been traumatized by the grisly murders… And above all else, how deeply he had felt betrayed and scarred by their Master’s decision to spare the monster it’s death. Shen knew the choice had haunted him. Watched the seeds of pain and doubt take root and fester in his brother’s heart. Watched for months as the ruby-eyed male would awake suddenly in the night, beads of sweat beginning to form on his body, before glancing hurriedly around the room to ensure he had not been discovered by the rest of their clansmen. Felt the crimson eyes rest on him, lingering longer than it did on anyone else. And listened as erratic breaths would then cease… the man seemingly having found some semblance of calm. It was like clockwork. A routine. Zed would awaken, panting and panicked…then watch him, as if waiting. And each time, Shen would continue to feign sleep.

To this day, he never seemed to muster the courage to reveal himself and ask why. 

Instead, he left the man to battle his demons, and allowed an exhausted Zed to slowly lower himself to his futon. Pale skin aglow in the moonlight that crept through the open windows. During those restless nights, Zed always seemed to noticeably tremble — but never from the cold. Shen elected it best to spare his companion the shame he seemed so concerned of hiding. And the golden-eyed ninja would remain perfectly still, albeit wide awake and listening as the other struggled to regain the sleep robbed of him by his nightmares. They would remain that way into the long hours of the night.

Shen would be lying if he did not admit how often he longed to reach out to his brother and offer him safety, to reassure him and share their nightmares. To explain their Master’s choice. If only to find peace in knowing the burden had bound them both. Then, perhaps, he might be able to salvage what he could plainly see breaking between them.

He wanted to. Truly he did. He considered it every night.

But the hours would pass, and Shen would remain still. Rooted to his futon. And once the silver-haired ninja had fallen weakly into a troubled sleep, Shen was left with nothing but regrets. He listened to the harsh breaths of a man slowly breaking, being chipped away by some unseen horror until little of him was left — haunted, and lost in a fight he believed he battled alone. Surrounded by those who saw his doubt as arrogance to be filtered out.

Shen collected himself, snapping back from the unpleasant memory and grounding himself in the reality of the present. Meeting his father’s eyes, he finally added, “The only one to blame for his surrendering is _himself_ ”. It took more effort than usual to maintain a controlled voice, “ _Neither_ of us planted doubt in Zed …and _neither_ of us can do anything to stop it. It was  _his_ trial, and _his_ alone”, the last part felt more for his own self-preservation. His own reassurance. Something to sate the guilt. But he knew whatever emotion lingered beneath his words might as well have been declared at the top of his lungs — the look of pity on his father’s face confirmed that the concealed sentiment had not been lost on him.

Kusho produced a long and deep sigh, eye’s shutting in a brief moment of self-reflection. “…I will not disagree with your words… It is true...no man but himself can conquer his own demons… but that does not mean a man need be alone in his quest to conquer them… Loneliness is a terrible thing, Shen... and solitude is the surest way to kill a man… As his teacher—-”, his eyes met Shen’s, and for a moment it seemed as though the strength he had once lost all those years ago had returned, “— I must try…”

The desperation in his father’s words seemed to fill the room, and Shen could only lower his head in resignation. Tentatively, he broke the silence, “…because he is your student? Or because you see him as your son?”.

It was no secret, even amongst the other members of the order, that Kusho had developed something of a soft spot for Zed over the years. He had taken the ruby-eyed orphan under his wing so young, it only made sense. And since Zed and Shen were so similar in age, the three had all but spent their lives together.

But it did not stop Shen from occasionally verbalizing his issues with the matter — as happy as he was to have a brother, his own father often seemed to offer Shen less leeway than his white-haired counterpart. During a particularly hot afternoon, their ranks had spread out across a clearing to train in the ways of the sword. Shen, who had been only 15 years of age at the time, would soon learn what happens when one allows the scalding heat of the sun to dictate his words.

After Zed’s eagerness with a blade nearly drained a fellow clansman of his blood, Shen outwardly accused his father of being too soft on Zed — and inversely, too strict on himself. The outburst caused silence to descend upon the entire training field, all eyes turning slowly to their Master. In response, Kusho had both Zed and himself bound and brought to their knees to be beaten with thick staffs of bamboo before everyone: “to prove that you are equals”, he stated matter-of-factly. Needless to say, the punishment had earned sharp tongued protests from Zed — who, despite it only being seconds after the final sting of bamboo left a hot lash upon the bare skins of their backs, mustered the energy to demand from their master the exact reasoning and logic behind having _both_ of them punished — regardless of who committed the crime.

And then bamboo canes promptly began to fly once more.

Today, Shen almost wished his father would bring Zed into the room and punish them both in payment for his own brazen questions — if only to break the atmosphere that was building… and perhaps return to a time where things were simpler. But instead, Kusho only offered a heavy-hearted smile, warm but pained. The crows feet surrounding his eyes seemed to multiply, and the candles that sat along the walls of the room flickered in his aged eyes. Kusho always seemed to understand exactly what it was Shen and Zed needed. Even when they did not.

And Shen understood today what he failed to understand that afternoon, several summers ago. His father’s motive was not to breed resentment between them. But instead, allow them to realize for themselves the degree of _influence_ they carried over each other. An influence which, at its core, was only made possible by recognizing one another as _worthy_. The _only_ ones worthy of each other's criticisms.

If, however rare, Shen was being difficult — Zed was dragged out to be beaten with him. And in the more likely case of Zed stepping out of line, Shen would be unceremoniously dragged out and beaten alongside him before ever even learning of the apparent crime. It became something of a spectacle and was never without a crowd of onlookers, but the seemingly inexplicable punishment began to bear its fruit in the months to come. Shen and Zed had become each other's watchers, regulating each other's behaviors as though it were second nature. The clan had remarked privately of Kusho’s genius, as only Shen or Zed seemed willing or even _remotely capable_ of discouraging the other from misdeeds — if only to escape from earning the swift stick of yet another bamboo blistered beating.

They began to see each other as equals, and it bred a healthy rivalry between them. It seemed only they were able to effect any sort of change in the other at all. And whether they would admit it or not, it had brought them closer.

And today, at this very moment, it was this revelation that had Shen suddenly sigh. Realization of his father’s true motive rang with clarity. Carefully, golden orbs found Kusho’s patient eyes once more — and it seemed as though the man had been waiting the entire time for Shen to come to his conclusion.

“As his teacher, I must try…”, Kusho repeated, before finally adding, “But only you can reach him”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually my first ever fan-fiction, sooooooo I hope it was at least somewhat... readable. Aha.. At any rate, I'm open to comments and feedback! The encouragement helps!! I love Shen/Zed, so I wanted to finally contribute to the community! This chapter was written to set the stage and relationship a bit, but Zed comes in next chapter -- so things will get more uhh... fun. ( >v>)


	2. Unsuspecting Assailant

Tucking the last of the supplies into a sturdy leather sack, Shen securely fastened the buckle that held the compartments of his bag closed. He spared a moment to scan the stacked shelves lining the small hut of the Kinkou’s dusty supply room, taking a mental inventory of everything they’d need. As far as food and drink went, he hadn't packed much — just enough to last them a week if rationed appropriately. The rest they could find, hunt, or purchase along the way. Typically, he might pack heavier gear, include a more versatile array of weapons or tools to enable adaptability on the field. But this particular mission did not seem to warrant bloodshed of any kind, at least not in any way Shen could reason.

Though he _highly_ doubted it would be free of conflict.

He was still uncertain of what he was expected to find at the Wakare Mountain Temple, but whatever it was, he had faith he would know once he had found it. True, it was an unsettling mission criteria to work with, and certainly nothing like their usual debriefs — but the uncertainty suited him fine all the same. That is, aside from the dull knot he felt in the pit of his stomach... But in truth, it had nothing to do with the mission. Oh no. _That_ could be attributed to one man, and one man alone.

Shen felt his way through the dark confines of the room and finally found the handle to the door, all the while going through a mental check-list of what he needed to accomplish in the days to come. The first was to look within himself and unburden whatever it was his father saw. Which he doubted would prove as simple as it sounded. The second… well. Zed would likely not be reasoned with over-night. Shen slung the supply bag over his shoulder, sighing audibly in the process.

If Zed was going to be… _difficult_ … then he could only guess as to how long they’d be trapped at Wakare.

He was at least grateful that he himself had not been the one to inform the red-eyed wild card that his skills would be required in what could only be described as a vague… escort mission. The pale haired shinobi had been called in to meet Kusho shortly after Shen had left, and even the thick wooden walls of the temple failed to contain the argumentative tone that he, and surprisingly Kusho, had both adopted. A tone which escalated with every passing second until the two were outright yelling at one another.

A great many clansman began to linger close by, steps slowing as they approached or passed the temple — curious as to what Zed would have said to drive their Master to unceremoniously raise his voice. Even Shen found himself abruptly stopping in his tracks in an effort to discern the nature of the conflict.

But the conversation was short-lived. Wooden doors were flung aside as a disgruntled Zed stormed from the temple, eliciting yelps of terror from those he passed and hushed insults from those who waited until they were safely out of earshot before bravely making their remarks. As he forged a path of fury, his steps leaving destruction in its wake, his eyes happened to briefly meet Shen’s — narrowing sharply with unmasked revulsion before quickly turning away and disappearing into the woods.

Kusho had managed one last miracle it seemed.

 

* * *

 

Nightfall was fast approaching, the sky now painted a soft watercolor wash of pastel orange hues. A quiet calm had begun to fall like a curtain upon the clan grounds, muffling the sounds that accompanied day-to-day life.

By the time Shen approached the grand red pillars that marked the entrance of the Kinkou compound, Zed was already there, leaning casually against the structure, arms folded across his chest and supplies of his own tucked into a bag at his feet. He too adorned the standard black shinobi shozuku that Shen and their fellow clansmen wore. Though unlike Shen, he kept his sleeves unfolded and forearms wrapped. Frosted white hair was hidden beneath a low hanging cowl, save for some stray silvery bangs peeking from beneath the hood. Even now, despite the tall shadows cast by the surrounding woods, Zed’s crimson eyes seemed to catch what little light there was, projecting an eerie but undeniably entrancing scarlet glow.

Like all perfect predators, Zed had the unique quality of being menacing and hypnotic all at once.

And however much fear might have gripped you and robbed your mind of reason, or adrenaline coursed through your veins, or instinct begged you to flee — something about those ruby orbs whispered sweet paralysis into your limbs. They isolated you. Ushered you into a private world, a place where only the two of you existed, inviting you to stay. And despite all rhyme or reason, you did. _Willingly_. It was the chilling promise of death. But an _intimate_ death. A death _just for you_. As though it were a mercy.

And most unsettling of all, Shen was almost certain Zed was entirely unaware of his own terrifying magnetism. And by extension, he was certain that a great many people might have been driven away from the ruby-eyed male despite the man having made no conscious effort to frighten them. It was an almost lonely thought — if one were to believe Zed even experienced such things.

Their reaction to Zed was involuntary, a primal instinct — no different than the hand that pulls away from the flame. Even now, despite being aware of the lack of ill-intent on Zed’s part, Shen still found himself quick to break the connection when their eyes met. Though unlike his fellow clansmen, it wasn’t out of fear. No. Some deeper sense of survival urged him to not allow red to cast its spell on gold. Focusing instead on the path ahead of them, Shen pressed forward. And the two exchanged no words. Not even as Shen passed bellow the grand arc that connected the pillars and moved past his shadowy traveling companion — taking the first steps out of the Kinkou Clan grounds.

Their journey to Mount Wakare had begun. And it had done so in absolute silence.

Quiet footsteps several feet behind him were the only indication Shen had that Zed had left his place against the pillar and followed him at all. But by the sound of it, the man seemed to be maintaining a controlled distance between them. Only seconds in, and boundaries were already being drawn. And though Shen was not ungrateful for the space, he recognized it for what it would be if he allowed it to continue — another obstacle for him to overcome once they reached their destination.

He would undoubtedly need to take his time, and under normal circumstances he might have allowed himself to test the waters and lure Zed out of his _inconceivably small_ comfort zone. But the pressure to return for the Ceremony weighed on him. Somehow, he would need to accomplish in the limited days before him what neither he nor Kusho had managed to in years.

So, the gold-eyed stoic allowed them to continue that way for several more hours, until the clan grounds disappeared behind the thickening weave of trees. Until night finally swallowed every last trace of light and nocturnal life retook its earthly domain from the sun. He controlled his urge to risk a glance at the man trailing behind him, knowing full well that it would play into whatever test he was undoubtedly conducting.

And so onward they pressed, evaluating one another. Calculating and cautiously, with every step they took, with each milestone in their journey, they observed. Had it not been for their matching shozuku, one might read the distance between them and assume they were merely strangers traveling upon the same road. Strangers who might soon part ways and be about their lives, fates never to cross paths again. Even when a full day had passed and Shen silently stopped to set up camp, Zed wordlessly disappeared into the forest. And it was not until Shen decisively began scouting the area did he discover that the man had constructed a separate campsite of his own several meters away. Zed had made no motion to acknowledge him, seemingly busying himself with more important tasks about his camp, but Shen was not so naive as to believe his presence had gone unnoticed.

When dawn approached, Shen dusted and repacked the single thinly woven blanket he had brought along, taking a moment to replace the stones surrounding the campfire and disguising any trace of him having been there. It was probably unnecessary, but a habit more than anything else. Though only after straightening himself did he realize he was uncertain how to proceed with their newfound… arrangement. He turned to face the direction of Zed’s campsite thoughtfully, straining his ears to listen for any movement that might suggest life, but heard nothing.

Acting on a conjecture, Shen resumed the journey, finding his way back to the beaten path. And only moments later, his hypothesis proved accurate, and a second pair of footsteps seemed to take its place some ways behind him. They continued that way for several more hours still, accompanied only by the soft crunch of leaves and gravel beneath their feet. And when nightfall approached and Shen guided them off the road, Zed vanished once more.

It… wasn’t a promising start.

Thus far, Shen had made absolutely no progress. These past two days, they waged an unseen war against one another, dancing around invisible lines and walls. If Shen so much as stopped walking to examine their path, Zed would stop in turn, not allowing the distance between them to close. If Shen made to inspect something in the path behind him, Zed would blatantly give him his back. It was exhausting, perhaps even childish, but it was probably something they’d need to get out of their system nevertheless. After all, it had been some time since they’d been alone together… or even truly interacted with one another at all for that matter. They had to relearn everything they once knew by heart. It was as though the person beside them bore an uncanny resemblance to someone once dear.. but the similarities ended there. They were entirely unfamiliar with each other.

Perhaps they were strangers on a road after all.

Sighing, Shen now sat beside the small fire he had built from the surrounding dead foliage. _‘He’s not going to make this easy…’_ , he concluded with slight irritation, glancing again in the direction of his fellow clansman. He would need to take some risks if he ever hoped to succeed. He had given the man two days — and that was all he could allow for. Releasing a heavy breath and extinguishing his campfire, Shen went about his usual concealment process before making his way through the brush.

A light flickered behind the copious amounts of shrubbery and woodland growth, coming alive as Shen made his way to where he would more than certainly be an unwelcome guest. He made no effort to conceal his approach, using the noise of snapping twigs and dry leaves as a strategy to allow his unsocial companion fair warning to prepare himself. And as he finally emerged from the darkness upon the small clearing, he was met with a vicious glare. Like ruby daggers. Shen took a moment, steeling himself for what was to come, before taking the next big step.

He sat by by the fire.

A growl of disapproval rumbled deeply in the back of Zed’s throat, followed by a venomous threat, “Leave—”, two serrated twin blades flashed, securely attached to his forearm, and catching the light of the fire warningly, “… _Now_.” Shen was almost relieved that the greeting had at least been _predictable_. And he had accurately suspected to find his companion still armed to the teeth despite being ready to sleep. But he responded to Zed in the only way he knew how, with the casual dismissal of his intimidation.

The golden-eyed stoic spoke calmly, praying that the tone of his voice would not exacerbate the other’s anger enough for the logic of his argument to be lost upon him, “Enough games”, he began firmly. “If you are so _adamant_ on scornfully insisting that I do not exist, then I won’t stop you”. Then, letting his bag fall with a thud on the dirt beside him as though to punctuate his own stubbornness, he added sharply, “But I _sincerely_ doubt your contempt is limited by your ability to _see me_ or not. Abhor me all you like. Howl it into the night, or loathe me in silence. But do _not_ allow it to blind your ability to see _reason_ ”

After a brief pause, Shen’s voice lowered admonishingly, “These woods are not safe, and it is wiser for us to camp together”. And he knew that Zed was well aware that his words were not the result of some elaborate plot. It was true, the Ionian wilderness was home to a great number of insidious beings. Nightmares came to life, waiting in the darkness to seize its chance upon unsuspecting wanderers. The spiraling paths alone were enough to sap the sanity from a lost or unprepared traveler, until they were never to be seen or heard from again.

Shen was surprised that he had somehow been allowed to get through his opening statement without interruption or incident, but one look at Zed and you could all but feel the bitterness that radiated beneath the surface.

“I didn’t realize you needed my _protection_ ”, he seethed, only a hint of mockery in his tone. But his stare wordlessly implied that the opposite also held true — he saw no need for Shen.

Shen countered calmly, “We are _far_ from the most dangerous things in these woods. And I am not so arrogant as to believe otherwise”.

Zed scoffed in return, “I’ll take my chances”, and dipped his next words in disgust. “Whatever lurks within these forests, you would be little more than a _burden_ to me”.

“Zed—”

 _“Don’t—!!”_ The outburst was cut short by the very mouth that exclaimed it, as though its host made a last ditch effort to swallow the words. And it had genuinely caught Shen off guard. He found himself racing over his most recent words, that he might hope to discover what would draw such offense. But upon close inspection, Zed had seemingly been just as surprised by his own reaction. As though he had been shamefully caught in a momentary loss of control.

It caught his interest.

“Don’t address me so _familiarly_ ” He warned. The words were little more than a whisper, but they still carried all the weight of rage and revulsion present earlier. They hung heavily in the air, and Shen felt as though the space between them had somehow grown. Perhaps they were much more far gone than he had anticipated. The response had been alarming. Perplexing. But in his shock, Shen had wasted his small window of opportunity to investigate the misstep further, his companion roughly adjusting his own bag into a makeshift pillow and laying against the tree behind him.

“Do as you wish”, he finished darkly, signaling the end of the conversation and shutting Shen out for the rest of the night. And wary of ruining what little progress might have been made, Shen allowed him this escape. Wordlessly, he found his own space directly opposite of Zed and lowered himself to the ground, ready to let sleep take him — but it did not come easily. Nor was he prepared for its contents.

In his dreams, he saw Zed. But a Zed he had forgotten ever existed. A Zed that had been buried deep, reserved for a time when their lives were simple. When it wasn’t burdened by a coarse, unforgiving reality. A Zed so uncharacteristic and contrasting to the one he had only just shared a visceral exchange with, that he could hardly distinguish between memories and the glorified fabrication of his own mind. The Zed in his dreams met his gaze not with savage crimson, but a brilliant glassy vermilion, which curled warmly as the corner of his lips tugged into a rare, discreet smile — as though he had just divulged some secret only meant for Shen's ears. And Shen felt a joy glow in him that he should have no longer been capable of.

The Zed in his dreams smirked competitively as they sparred, but it was void of hostility and resentment. It was almost charming. Their blades struck against cold steel and rang with a sweet clarity, the two seemingly caught in a dance — one never quite besting the other. Zed moved quickly, he had always been the faster of the two. Agile and lithe, his body shifted and reacted in ways the eyes struggled to follow — he made acute changes in movement, and had speed enough to spare for minute adjustments along the way that would have seemed physically impossible to attempt. But what Shen lacked in quickness between them, he made up for in tenacity and durability. As the more muscularly dense of the two, he used his own robust build to his advantage — and when their blades clashed and were caught held against one other, he put all his strength behind a powerful shove, launching himself forward and sweeping Zed swiftly off his feet, pinning his companion bellow him and knocking the wind out of them both.

Zed fought with no avail to dislodge himself from what might as well have been a mountain atop him. But Shen managed an exhausted laugh, a sound he had forgotten he could make, straining to maintain a hold and not be bucked off by the still very dangerous man that squirmed bellow him — both still panting heavily after their taxing exchange.

“Seems someone’s been sneaking second helpings of rice”, Zed remarked tauntingly between heavy breaths, and Shen felt the comforting rumble of laughter flow from the warm body beneath him, bringing a smile to his face and producing a laugh of own in response. And when his eyes met Zed’s, he felt his already shortened breaths hitch involuntarily in his throat.

The Zed in his dreams was nothing like the Zed in reality, who would never lay sprawled defenseless beneath him, a thin sheen of sweat layered on porcelain skin — dishelved clothes exposing a creamy chest riddled with scars, and hair clinging to remarkably mesmerizing features. Pale lips parted invitingly, thirsting for air, complimenting the hazy gaze of glassy, half-lided sanguine red eyes. His cheeks boasted a healthy flush of red, but upon noticing the extended scrutiny with which he was being watched, seemed to bloom into a violent scarlet. Shen felt a wave of lust rush through him, his grip growing more firm, and his mind could not reason beyond the unimaginable but undeniable attraction he was feeling. It felt familiar. As though the nature of their exchange was common-place. As though he had always been this uncontrollably attracted to this man. As though this was how things were always meant to be.

Zed’s gaze seemed to read his own and, as though recognizing the growing hunger, finally broke the silence, “Get off me you brute”, he demanded. But the order failed to carry any of the strength or firmness that usually accompanied them, nor did the man make any further effort to untangle himself. Instead, the words were husky, its raciness doing nothing to combat the lust clouding Shen’s mind, who found himself leaning closer, until their lips were now only centimeters apart. They brushed against one another, and Shen’s mind was drowning in anticipation, hungry to to discover what this new enticing and vulnerable Zed tasted like — seductive and inviting in the way the man's body seemed to form and fit his own.

“Shen… ” The sound of of his own name, barely a breathless whisper, was enough to drive him to the edge, and all at once he closed the distance between them, capturing lips ardently in a ravenous kiss and eliciting a gasp of protest from his prey. But soon, a low moan of appreciation escaped involuntarily from Zed’s lips. And the sound kindled the flame of arousal rapidly growing in Shen, who pressed deeper still, tongue delving boldly into the warm cavern in an effort to draw Zed out of his uncharacteristic shyness. And to his surprise, he felt the other meet him fervently in return, the body beneath him arched in wanton desire.

A deep groan of approval reverberated in the back of Shen’s throat, and within seconds, weapons were discarded, replaced by impatient hands. Shen found himself insatiably eager to explore what he had so predatorily claimed for himself — what no other person had ever come or could ever even _hope_ to come close to claiming before him. Blood had long since rushed and pooled in his groin, his stiffening member painfully swollen and begging for release, begging to drive itself into the willing, tight warmth bellow. As the friction between them began to grow insufferable behind every layer of clothing that separated them, Zed’s boldness seemed to grow with it, and he began to call out to Shen with unforeseen lewdness, begging for him, escalating in volume, as though unashamed of who might discover them in so compromising a situation.

“Shen!—"

"Shen!!"

"Wake up you insufferable fool!!”

Shen felt his body jolt with the horrid shock that accompanied a sudden awakening, golden-eyes snapping open abruptly and searching, startled and confused, for the source of the panic. The sensuous voice that had once called out to him longingly was gone, replaced once more with the furious and irritated Zed he was familiar with — and gone with it was the pleasant warmth of desire that had washed over him. Mind racing to make sense of the woken world once more, he only had a split second to vaguely register the dark blur of Zed lunging across the campfire without hesitation, charging directly towards him, eyes blazing and bladed arm coiled back and ready to strike.

But as the razor-sharp blade was suddenly thrust forward, it seemed to miss Shen’s head and was driven savagely instead into the tree bark beside his cheek — just as an arrow came whistling from the darkness and ricocheted off the cold steel, deflected into the dirt and failing to meet its mark. A second arrow followed closely after, piercing through the dark; and in trying to defend the sleeping Shen, opportunisitcally took advantage of his trapped arm and successfully impaled itself deep into Zed’s thigh, ripping a bark of pain from the man — who, with a frightening degree of control, hardly seemed to flinch. Instead, dislodging his blade from the bark beside his would-be-dead companion's skull, he broke the protruding arrow shaft in one swift movement, eyes snapping to Shen accusatorily , “You were _saying_?”

But the words, along with the fact that his life had more than certainly just been saved, were entirely lost on him — and Shen found himself distracted by the man only inches away from him. Whose alluring features, it would appear, were indeed _not_ the fabrication of his own imagination after all. The sound of an arrow nocking broke him out of his stupor, and they both spun around, diving behind the cover of trees as a volley of arrows sang through the air.

Once in safety, Shen flashed Zed a concerned look, who sat with his back against the adjacent tree, observing his injury before growling and shooting Shen an irritated glare, lips forming the word _‘burden’_ condescendingly at him.

Well. Shen could at least take that as a sign he would still be functional in the fight.

He motioned with an open palm for Zed to remain still, earning yet another sharp look of detest, as though Shen had asked him to do the unthinkable. And not waiting for the approval he knew he would not receive, Shen planned his route, ready to quietly disappear into the trees above him and silently make his way towards the direction of their aggressor. But before he could ascend the trees, Zed darted rebelliously from behind cover towards his bag, reaching it just as an arrow flew from the darkness. It recoiled, deflected once more against the steel of his bladed forearm — and within milliseconds of missing its mark, Zed flung his reacquired shuriken with horrific force, tracing and following the trajectory of the arrow back to the assailant with lethal accuracy, whistling as it spun through the darkness before meeting its end — a bloodcurdling cry ripping through the night.

Wasting no time, Shen darted through the trees, landing near their aggressor to confirm the kill and finding what appeared to be a Vastayan rogue. The chimera-like man struggled to breath past choked sobs as blood began to fill his throat, convulsing momentarily before stilling altogether. The large shuriken had torn through his chest, cut clean through the bone of his rib-cage and everything that sat between, pinning him to the ground. The poor fool had likely only meant to rob them...

Slow footsteps approached, Zed appearing from the brush, not so much as a limp to indicate he was still injured. Firmly planting a foot on the chest of the corpse, he leaned down to rip the weapon free, shredding bits of meat and flesh from the chest cavity as he did so, and leaving a gaping hole in the man. Shen’s eyes shifted from the cadaver to Zed before settling finally on his wounded thigh. “We should look at that—”

“There is no _we_ ”. Then, nodding towards the bloodied remains before them, “ _That_ is what happens when there’s a _we_ ”. And without another word, he turned and left. Abandoning Shen in the woods once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this out a little later than I'd hoped for, but I do hope everyone enjoys it! And I have to say, thank you soooooo much for the support and kind comments!! It really helped me get through this chapter! <3
> 
> We're finally getting some story building elements, there'll be more to come :D I don't want to spoil things, so that's all I'll say!


	3. Delirium

Dusk-draped clouds enveloped a darkening sky, like a mauve-hued smog; the murky miasma swarmed and smothered the already dampened reach of the sun until it was little more than a distant, obscured glow. The air had grown considerably colder, bringing with it a crisp chill; and a thick fog had begun to crawl and pool at their feet, swirling airily with each step they took down the beaten dirt path before settling delicately behind them. Their surroundings were not the vibrant, lush colors they were familiar with — but it was a good sign nonetheless. It signaled the approach of their destination, and it would only be another day’s walk, perhaps less if they maintained their pace; and they will have finally reached the Temple. For Shen, it was admittedly liberating — just the thought of returning home and ending this arrangement inspired a briskness to his steps.

From here on out, their journey would be largely uphill, the ground beneath them already ascending to a steady incline; and the woods would be at their thickest.

But the somber atmosphere seemed to go hand in hand with the current state of their mood. The Vastayan ambush had regrettably done more than nullify what little progress Shen had achieved, it had given Zed reason enough to fortify the already impassable wall that he had erected between them — as was apparent by their walking distance, which had all but doubled since the start of their trip. Zed, who now trailed some 20 yards behind him, was only a vaguely discernible shadow in the mist; like a spectral apparition that seemed to grow further and further away with every passing hour — though whether that was by design or some trickery of the mind brought on by the fog, Shen could not tell.

He released an exasperated sigh, the warmth visibly dissipating in the cold air ahead. A peculiar stillness had gripped the woods, and in its silence, their footsteps seemed deafeningly loud. Once again, he found himself grateful of the distance imposed between them — although this time, it was for an entirely different reason. It enabled Shen to mask his own embarrassing, unnecessary inner-conflict.

The golden-eyed stoic had been struggling tirelessly to distract himself these passing hours. To focus on his teachings. On his mission. On the ceremony. On quite literally _anything else_ but the dream. And if it were in his power, he might have allowed himself to explore a thousand possibilities to ponder on. Then a thousand more still. But each would hold his attention with less firmness than the last. And if, by some miracle, he had managed to wade through the boundless flood of topics and settle on one of measurable value, it would slip as effortlessly away as sand did through one’s fingers, leaving only one thought in its wake.

A single, solitary thought. Looming over his shoulder as he battled to give away his attention. One that resounded loudly above all others, persistent. Unyielding. Agonizing.

The dream had felt _familiar._

Even now, hours after what he could only have described as some sort of divine punishment brought on to test his mental fortitude, he was left visibly shaken. Strangely enough, it was not the spur of sexual attraction that haunted him — conflicted as he was by his own unexpected arousal, he had at least managed to assign the blame to natural bodily reactions that were beyond his conscious control… No.. Something else brought on the wave of discomfort. And it was what kept Shen happy to indulge in the 20 yards between them now.

The dream had not only felt _familiar_ , it had felt disturbingly _real_. The scenes that flashed in his mind, even now, seemed more memory than imagination. The warm flush of flesh… the way it trembled beneath calloused fingers… even the whisper of his name. It was like an itch. The sensation of walking into a room and forgetting why you were ever there to begin with. And as illogical as it all seemed, it left him more distraught than he was willing to admit. He knew he was likely giving this random, arbitrary dream more credit than it deserved. But at the very least, the level of detail in it revealed how much attention he had unknowingly been paying to his companion’s appearance — a thought, he decided, he was better off not investigating.

A flicker in the corned of his peripheral vision prompted him to abruptly collect his thoughts and look skyward. And surely enough, he was able to make out the washed-out outline of the Temple as it tightly hugged Mt. Wakare. Sighing with relief, he spun around, the sight of their goal having re-inspired his motivation to tame his rabid traveling companion with good news. But he was instead met with an empty road, eerily devoid of any life. His eyes shifted searchingly through the fog, leftover agitation from their recent attack sending a surge of adrenaline through him. And within seconds, he found himself darting through the haze.

“Zed!”, the name came freely, as through he had not just recently been chastised for using it. When no response came from the misty expanse, he felt the volume in his voice raise; concern seeping into his tone as he continued to call out to his missing companion. His steps came to an abrupt halt when a form had began to take shape ahead; a dark mound which sat inert on the gravel. Senses sharpening at the potential threat, he scanned the trees for sound or sight of harm before decisively approaching the figure. Clarity of vision came with each step he took, until the sight had him break into a furious sprint. Zed lay unmoving, collapsed against the damp road; the fog trying to swallow his motionless body.

“Zed!!”, Shen came to a skidding stop, falling to his knees and glancing around them once more for any sign of an attacker before hurriedly checking for a pulse. Relief washed over him when he found the telltale signs of life, and he carefully shifted the man onto his back; supporting his weight as he propped him against his thigh in a slightly inclined sitting position.

The rise and fall of Zed’s chest appeased his fears, but also brought on a new wave of immediate concerns. The breaths that pushed past pale lips were ragged and forced, and the pale glow of ivory skin was replaced with a sickly ashen complexion. He brought a hand up tentatively, resting it on Zed’s forehead before recoiling sharply and cursing inwardly — he was burning up. A violent fever seemed to set his skin ablaze, and his body radiated a scalding heat; a sharp contrast to the chilled air that surrounded them. For him to have collapsed, it seemed the ailment had been given the opportunity to voraciously consume his body unimpeded for several hours at least.

It was then that Shen felt a furious irritation take root. How had Zed allowed it to progress this far? Was he so prideful that he would rather risk the fires of illness scorching away his life than reach out to Shen for help? Did the hate he harbored truly run so deep that it inspired a life-threatening degree of irresponsibility and disgust?

Involuntarily, he guiltily recalled his own willing eagerness to put distance between them, and felt a wave of shame wash over and quell his one-sided barrage of blame. True, Zed had acted with frustrating levels of self-reliance that practically bordered on reckless endangerment. But it was Shen who had acted… uncharacteristically… So much so that he had hardly noticed Zed was being consumed by sickness. A realization that left him silently horrified.

Why had he allowed the man to get under his skin? How was _anything_ affecting him at all? This wasn’t how things were meant to be. He wasn’t acting himself. This wasn’t like him at all.

A distraught groan called his attention down to narrowed red eyes, which peeked tiredly below heavy lids, their ruby glow having lost its signature luster behind the veil of illness. As the man made to remove himself, Shen’s hand instinctively shot out to his chest, holding him down with a level of ease only made possible by the malady. His sickly companion winced and grunted in objection to the offending hand, but seemed unable to follow up the threat. Shen inspected him incredulously, what sort of fever sapped the body of strength so completely in so short a time? It seemed as though even the simplest movements wrought unspeakable pain, the intensity of which was apparent by the beads of sweat that framed a tortured expression. Matted hair hung damply, casting a shadow over weary, sunken eyes; eyes that seemed to struggle in focusing the direction of their hate.

“Zed—”

The sickening sound of a fist connecting with bone echoed into the mist, cutting Shen off and sending him recoiling, pain pulsing from his nose and busted upper lip — the coppery taste of blood quickly filling his mouth and overwhelming his senses.

“What did I say about getting _familiar?_ ”, Zed haggardly pushed out between pained breaths before grimacing with exhaustion and letting his fist fall limply back to his side. The punch seemed to have exerted what little energy remained in his fever wracked body, but the man appeared inspired enough to get away from Shen that he was willing to draw strength from whatever depleted reservoirs he could. The surprise assault had been enough to send Shen onto his back, and Zed had crumbled to the floor once more in the process — although this time, he seemed capable enough to persevere through whatever pain he was experiencing to lift himself onto his elbows, violent coughs wracking his body.

Shen felt the dull hum of anger coil in him, asking it's host for permission to run rampant and seek justice. But it failed to win against the stoic’s discipline, the rage hovered beneath the surface before being denied altogether. To the outside eye, it had never even been there. Brushing the blood from his nose using the back of his hand, he recited a mantra internally as he collected himself; rising from the damp gravel and dusting himself off before responding coldly.

“You collapsed. I had only meant to help you, broth—”

“I am not your _brother…_ ”, Zed seethed, pushing himself off the ground sluggishly. With great effort, he managed to stand, albeit unstably — and Shen could only guess that it was pride that demanded the man rely on nothing but himself for support and balance. They both stood now, only a few strides of distance between them. The words had carried the same hollow sting of pain as the punch — if not more.

Shen was quick to discard it. As he did all emotions. As he _should_ have been doing this entire trip. But what had once been second nature seemed to require great effort and concentration — and it seemed to fail him when he needed it most.

He needed to stay calm. Reason out that the man was speaking from a place of delirium. That his words were the result of a fever conquering his mind and not his own sincere feelings. But with every word the fever-stricken man spoke, Shen felt his own grip over logic slipping.

Zed laughed cruelly. Despite his obviously weakened state and posture, he still seemed to carry himself with all the menace and lethality expected of him.

“Don’t feign injury… do you honestly think you have the right stand there and call me _brother?_ ”, the final word had liberally been dipped in equal parts mockery and venom. And Shen felt his stomach tighten at hearing the affectionate term be marred with undeserving toxicity.

“We _are_ brothers”, he defended through unconsciously clenched teeth, golden eyes glowed with a distant, buried ferocity. And he felt his fists curl readily, _eager_ even — begging to pummel out an apology, to draw anything that resembled remorse or admission of the pain Zed was afflicting. Of the role the man had played in the ruin of their family. Of the role he had played in ruining what had once been between them.

But the sound of a dark, disbelieving chuckle only seemed to fuel Shen’s growing conflict, dousing the hope he had secretly been nurturing.

“You are little more than a _hypocrite_ ”, the words were laced in a long-awaiting bitterness, one with genuine unfiltered disgust. But for the second time since the start of their journey, the declaration that followed caught Shen entirely off guard. And the animosity that had finally been set free through Zed’s delirium was now anchored by poorly concealed anguish.

“You would have me play the part of your brother _for what?_ A _limited time?_ Until you passed your filthy ceremony, ascended as The Eye, and cast away what little humanity remained with you!? You would have me stand by your side and perpetuate the falsehood that suddenly as the Eye you feel _nothing?!_ That when it came time for judgement, I would bear no more _meaning_ to you than the stranger on trial with me!? Is _that_ the brother I am meant to be!?” The accusations were lost within a storm of fury and heartache, fever casting aside whatever inhibition had kept the truth locked away. A truth, it seemed, had long been festering in the darkness, eating away at it's host in silence. Shen felt his throat constrict, mouth opening defiantly, but void of words — nor would he have been given the chance to speak. Zed wavered unsteadily towards him, dragging his feet behind him, hazy red daggers signaling that he had only just yet begun his rampage.

“I wish no role in the Kinkou’s _deceit._ And I will play no part in breathing life into the _lie_ that our Master feeds us!!” Shen fought his sharp desire to defend his father and their ways, and battled against his instinct to take a step back when the raging man approached him, taking a fistful of his shozuku and tightening it menacingly — just enough to mask the fact that he also used it to steady himself.

“Do you honestly believe a truth that bore _any substance_ at all would feel so _threatened_ by the doubts of _one man?”_ Shen could all but feel the livid fury radiate from the face centimeters apart from his; feel as the man struggled to capture in a single sentence all the pain and turmoil he shouldered in silence after being singled out as an arrogant agitator for years. Zed was on a frenzied warpath, and Shen could do little but try to process his companion’s long buried resentment. His rage and agony. His disappointment.

“For an order that so _righteously_ preaches of balance, it seems rather counterintuitive for them to so eagerly cut out the role our own _humanity_ plays in judging the _rest_ of _humanity!!_ ” Zed attempted to punctuate his revulsion with yet another fever-enraged attack, fist flying with considerably less speed than the first time; but the increasingly sluggish movements made for easy projections, and Shen need only dodge from side to side as the languid onslaught of missed strikes continued.

“The _brother_ I knew would not blindly accept empty words as a truth to impose as law upon others!” Another fist flew, again evaded. “He was _firm_ yes, but he was _fair!_ And he needn’t _rip_ his heart out to do so!”, exhausted ruby orbs met and held wide-golden eyes, locked in a gaze that seemed to pierce right through to the very core of each other's souls.

“…He would not have so hastily cast aside those that sought _truth_ … just because it was not _his_ truth... ”, Zed was panting heavily now, words losing the strength to project rage, dulling in intensity until only heartache remained. The sluggish, weakened assault of fists had ended, and had taken a punishing toll on him — the man barely teetering on the brink of consciousness.

It was then that Shen’s eyes darted to the wrapped arrow wound on his companion's leg, the seeds of suspicion quickly replaced by realization. “Zed—!”

But his interruption went ignored, and listless sanguine eyes struggled to stay open. A hand reached out weakly to Shen, who found himself go rigid with surprise when what he had initially believed to be a final attempt to hit him seemed to devolve into a pleading touch; fingers brushing along his cheek before resting tenderly at the nape of his neck.

“… my brother... would not… willingly... participate… in his own… execution…” 

When his legs finally gave out, Shen instinctively threw his arms around him to support his weight, catching Zed heavily against his chest. The hand that had been resting behind Shen's neck seemed to tighten desperately, and he felt himself stiffen in shock as another soon snaked its way to the base of his back. An exhausted head took refuge on Shen's shoulder, and hot, labored breaths sent a shiver down his spine — but to his surprise, he found himself pulling the wounded man closer, until they were caught in an awkward embrace.

And for the first time in his life, Shen felt entirely useless.

Completely uncertain of what to do in the face of such sincere anguish. Of what to do with the words Zed would have likely taken to the grave. Words no one had meant to hear. Shen's mind went blank. His training had not prepared him to deal with this...Years ago, perhaps... Years ago, the solution might have been simple...But not now...Not today. And it occurred to him with some measure of guilt that Zed had unwillingly unburdened himself onto the wrong Shen. Instinctively, the arms he circled around the man's waist tightened, as though it would compensate for his own inadequacy. As though it would somehow convey to the damaged soul that his words had finally reached someone. As though it would somehow make up for all the years of lost time between them.

“My brother... did not fear… the shrouded.. path…”, the words came hoarse and hushed, and Shen was certain he had only heard them because they had all but been whispered into his ear.

His arms tightened around him, savoring the intimacy, knowing full well that this moment might have been the closest they had been in years; and that it was only made possible at the expense of his companion's volition. In a moment of selfishness, he almost wished that Zed would linger in his delirium long enough to reveal more of his himself; to bare his soul for just a moment longer... But locked in the embrace, Shen knew that as soon as the fever passed, he would likely not remember much anything that had been exchanged between them. And things would return to how they were. “Zed... the arrow... you’ve been poisoned…”

A broken smile formed on anguished features, and scarlet eyes opened briefly.

They watched Shen with pity.

“As have you, brother…”, and darkness finally took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys! Had a lot of work to catch up on~ At any rate, uhhh, plot devices! Yeah.
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone that left comments!!! I'd love to hear what you guys think will happen/your thoughts on the chapter! :D
> 
> Also, I'm sorry for everyone that has to deal with my spelling errors. I swear I read over this thing like 3-4 times. I'm just _exceptionally_ useless. It's almost impressive really. And the uselessness compounds with each attempt I make. So...really... I should try less and just gamble it all on luck.
> 
> I know. Its a shitty cost-benefit analysis. But it technically checks out. Heh.


	4. Clarity

A pained cry echoed from below the towering canopies that blanketed the forest, shattering the veil of silence that hung layered alongside the chilling mist which perpetually circled Mt. Wakare. In an otherwise quiet night, the cries mirrored the torment of its host, who groaned in anguish between the tortured howls ripped from his core. Every movement, however meager or insignificant, spoke of a searing toxin-induced agony.

Between the excruciating pain and the untamed fever brought on by the poison, Zed was left virtually paralyzed; able to do little more than hang wearily from Shen’s shoulder. He seemed to exhaust what little strength he had in order to forcibly limp along the beaten path; and limp he did, but only when the pain was not so unbearable that he need surrender the entirety of his weight to the other for support, leaving his feet dragging heavily behind him.

Whenever his limbs finally gave way, Shen would wordlessly tighten the grip he had snaked around the afflicted man’s waist before readjusting Zed’s arm, which the man had unwillingly allowed him to drape over his shoulder; compensating for the sudden redistribution of weight.

But as these intervals of pain grew longer and more frequent, he found himself at times carrying his hefty companion entirely on his own; desperate to maintain their steadily dwindling pace, which had already been cut in half. With every hour that passed, Zed’s debilitated condition seemed to worsen, and Shen would have to forcibly insist that they take a break — an act that only four hours earlier had earned him angry snarls of disagreement, followed by exhausted growls of disapproval only two hours later, and now? Nothing. Only haggard breaths and silent compliance.

The arrangement, however inefficient, was still more favorable than his first attempt at transporting the ill-tempered man. After the blackout following Zed’s delirious outburst, Shen had struggled to cradle his companion carefully in his arms. But it wasn’t long before the crimson eyed wildcard had regained consciousness and thrashed himself free, sending them both tumbling roughly into the dirt for the second time that day, and leading to yet another heated exchange in which Zed punctuated his opinion on the matter with a _fist_ in Shen’s face.

And so here they were, a reopened busted lip in exchange for having miraculously reached a semi-mutual compromise — Zed’s arm draped over his shoulder as they struggled to walk side by side down the muddied path.

Even then, Zed was going out of his way to make it clear that he was unhappy. It seemed the man was doing everything in his power to rely on his own limited strength; to do whatever was necessary to minimize his unwanted, albeit necessary, reliance on Shen’s solid physique to balance himself — regardless of however physically taxing it might be, and despite whatever misery it might incur upon him.

Any normal person might have found the ungrateful attitude offensive. Who, after all, would take kindly to being treated with detest and revulsion, ironically as though _they_ were the carrier of some diseased contagion, when offering sincere aid to another? After such a brazen insult to their character, any sane person would have been justified in their outrage. Shen most of all.

And yet... Instead, he found it heartbreaking.

Heartbreaking to watch as one of the strongest and proudest men he knew was torn apart from within; insides set ablaze as a now literal toxin danced alongside the existing corruption that had been steadily corroding his soul for the past five years. To watch as a characteristically guarded and often menacing expression was replaced with one contorted in agony and fatigue.

To watch as the unbreakable man was broken.

It guilted him. It guilted him to no end knowing that it was all because he had come to his defense — that he had made himself Shen’s shield at great cost to himself despite the fact that they had shared only a handful of words for longer than he could remember. And it guilted him to think that he was indeed a _burden_ in Zed’s life; that there truly was no place left for him that would not ultimately lead to the man’s direct physical or mental harm.

But worst of all… he felt a nauseating terror churn in the back of his mind. A terror born from a sick, self-indulgent desire. A terror that reached its pique when a selfish part of him whispered back simply: _‘So what?’_.

And that very same voice seemed to creep upon him, divulging to him his own shameful truths of _opportunism_. The truth that, perhaps, he was secretly enjoying being needed by Zed once more… even at the expense of the other’s health. That despite being sincerely fearful for the man’s life and concerned for his well-being, some small contemptible part of him was also equally eager to hold onto the moment. Eager to be the only hands permitted to lift the man from his descent.

Eager to prove that his father was right, that only _he_ could reach Zed. That only _he_ might extend his hand into the darkness and find that another reached back.

Swallowing the lump that had grown in his throat, Shen struggled to purge himself of his own detestable realizations; quickly reciting the mental mantra Kusho had imparted to him: _‘the eye is blind to fear, to hate, to love… to all things that would sway equilibrium’_

As the last words echoed in his mind, he felt the familiar numbing wave of tranquility wash over him once more.

And it should have been enough.

It should have left his mind and soul feeling cleansed.

But on days like today, behind the the cold disciplined exterior he had spent years building and fortifying, sometimes... something _resisted_. And Shen was scared of discovering what kind of man truly waited behind the impenetrable walls.

As soon as he had found some semblance of calm, however limited, he felt himself suddenly dip under Zed’s added weight, his grip instinctively tightening to ensure the other didn’t collapse. It took great effort for golden eyes to inspect without lingering too long and incurring a much unneeded wrath; and he was careful not to make the man conscious that he was being watched. From the corner of his eye, he noted with growing concern that Zed was now greedily panting for air, as though each breath might be his last.

“Let’s stop here—”, he began, but before he could finish, the man had already dropped like a dead weight, nearly dragging them both down into the mud.

“Zed!!” He tried to ignore the panic seeping into his voice as he clung to the slackened form, shallow breaths now few and far between.

Shen could not remember the last time he felt such genuine, unfiltered fear.

The arm that was not already circled around Zed’s waist quickly found its way behind his knees, sweeping him into his arms as he hurriedly carried the man off the beaten path until they found a small clearing in the woods — the uncharacteristic submissiveness being demonstrated on Zed’s part was enough to fuel Shen's already frighteningly fast-growing fear.

Moving swiftly, he lowered the eerily docile man into a sitting position against the nearest tree, sparing a moment to brush silvery bangs aside and rest a hand on a still burning forehead. Zed’s eyes were shut, dark circles sat upon a pallid expression; the rise and fall of his chest, however slow and shallow, were the only indication that he was still alive. As Shen pulled his hand away, he felt an overwhelming sense of pain and terror conquering him — and above all responsibility.

Zed had said and revealed more of himself within those five minutes of delirium than had ever been shared between them in the past five years. He had simultaneously vilified the Kinkou, denounced the Eye, and yet hinted viscerally at some buried desire to have his brother returned to him. Or at least… that was what he had managed to loosely translate between the explosion of rage, barrage of fists, and acerbic accusations.

He needed to find help. But now more than ever, he could not bring himself to abandon the man in the woods while he left in search of aid. Not when he was afraid of what he might return to. Not when the mist might truly swallow him forever.

Sweat trickled down his own forehead, a reminder that he too had been traveling endlessly for hours; the exhaustion hitting him all at once, but it was an exhaustion he could not afford. His eyes darted to the bags he had set aside, a small spark of hope flaring in his chest.

His hand shot out, frantically raiding their supplies and emptying them hurriedly onto the dirt. He began sifting through the clutter for anything that might soothe the fever or at least dampen the pain, but his own supplies were regrettably limited. He cursed under his breath, turning his attention to Zed’s bag and flipping it over — a small armory spilling onto the dirt, steel clattering as an array of weapons formed a sizable mound in-front of him; enough to arm a small covert team. It might have been humerous had the situation been different.

Just as his already meager hopes were being doused, a small squared paper package caught his eye; folded neatly and strung closed with a simple thread, peeking from beneath the clutter of weaponry Zed had unsurprisingly saw fit to pack. Moving quickly, he slid the envelope free from its enclosure, revealing a grainy, pearlescent powder. Pinching the loose, talc-like substance between his index finger and thumb, he inspected the contents carefully before finally allowing himself a sigh of relief — crushed Corydalis, a flower recognized for its anesthetic properties. It might ease the pain, but it would offer little as far as the poison went; which meant it would undoubtedly still be a rough trip for them both. It would buy them much needed time against the fever, but Zed might ultimately have to break through it himself. A fleeting question crossed his mind: _‘why was he carrying it at all?’_ — the package was a stark contrast to the rest of his belongings; but the thought was quickly buried beneath more urgent matters.

They needed a physician.

At the base of Mt. Wakare sat a small village, and if luck were on their side it would be home to a doctor or healer. They had originally planned to travel along the outskirts and avoid the settlement altogether in favor of shortening their trip; and while not entirely divergent from their current path, it was still half a day’s journey away — assuming they were somehow able to resume their slow walking arrangement.

Shen would undoubtedly move faster on his own... but could he risk attempting the trip and leaving Zed behind? Was carrying the afflicted man while he threatened to thrash in delirium and slow them down any better of an alternative?

Did he even have much of a choice?

He had no way of knowing how long the poison would run its course. No way of knowing if the scorching fever’s finale had ended with Zed’s rampaging revelation of secrets… or if it was merely the opening act to the real tragedy. Swallowing hard, he felt his mouth run dry, considering his options and their consequences with no small measure of dread.

But before he could make a choice, an anguished groan made the decision for him.

It was all he need hear to steel himself, purpose flooding his veins with conviction. “Don’t worry—”, his brows drew closely in stern concentration. “—I won’t leave you”

Wasting no more time, he set the powder carefully aside and reached into his bag, retrieving a hollowed shaft of bamboo ideal for boiling small, concentrated mixtures. It was typically used for teas, but he would have to make due. He extracted a leather bag that contained their drinking water and began filling the shaft close to the brim before emptying a fourth of the contents into the cylindrical container, he spun the tube gently until the floating chunks of powder sunk beneath the surface and burst into clouds of white as they hit the bottom; stopping only once the mixture had reached a satisfactory shade of silvery-gray.

In truth, he wasn’t much of a herbalist — a skill he regretted not taking seriously when it was being taught at the compound. Splinting broken bones and mixing simple salves to combat infection were one thing… but complex mixtures required more practiced hands and a degree of finesse that he was entirely lacking in.

He eyed the Corydalis worriedly. Too little of the root and the man would continue to suffer the crippling pain unimpeded… too much and it would induce hallucinations — or worse, fuel the existing poison as a newly introduced toxin altogether.

He had neither the resources nor the time to spare for trials — it would have to be a calculated risk.

Still kneeling beside their supplies, he eyed the concoction tentatively one last time before decisively spinning around towards his companion; freezing with surprise when he was met not with the sight of a sickly slumber, but with glowing, half-lided crimson orbs.

For several seconds, they both sat entirely still, as if petrified by the other’s watchful gaze; the familiar faint haze of delirium reflected in the weary pair of vermilion. Swallowing sharply, Shen felt his chest tighten in uncertainty.

“…Zed?”

No response. Only unchanging, clouded, sanguine eyes. Eyes that seemed to breath a life into his chest and send a chill down his spine.

Clearing his throat, he shifted to the man’s side, bringing the mixture up to pale, parted lips. “Drink this. We need to hurry—”

“You were perfect…”

Shen froze at the hoarse, deep tone; startled eyes widening with undisguised confusion as he struggled to process the words and make sense of their implications. To digest the very weight of them. But one look at the dull, sickly eyes and he was reminded that anything the man said might very well amount to little more than incoherent ramblings. Pushing the remark aside, he pressed the mixture against parted lips once more, trying to persuade him to drink. “Zed, please—”

“Perfect… you were perfect…”

“Zed...This is the poison speaki—”

“How could you let them ruin you?…”

The question, spoken with a quiet, pained sincerity, left Shen feeling as though his soul had been ripped from his body; as though he could turn around at this very moment and inspect his own empty husk for the imperfections the man was referring to. His chest tightened sharply, and he suddenly became very aware of himself.

“Nothing left…”, Zed began again weakly. “…your humanity was… it made… beautiful… now… nothing… ”, Shen felt himself slowly swallowed by crimson eyes, locked in place. Eyes that seemed to mourn the passing of someone long lost. Eyes that spoke to ghosts.

“Zed please—”, he struggled to dismiss the words, “—You’re not yourself—”.

“Nothing left… nothing left of you… nothing left to…”, words seemed to fade with his consciousness, scarlet eyes losing their focus and slowly surrendering to the exhaustion.

“Zed? No no no—”, panic flooded him anew, and Shen could feel his composure shattering as less and less of scarlet was visible behind a curtain of white lashes.

“Zed! Hey, stay with me! You need to drink this!!” He brought the mixture desperately to the man’s lips, but could only watch helplessly as it trickled down his chin. “Zed!!” He yelled frantically, a blend of frustration and crushing dread painting his voice; his own breathing growing erratic as terror pounded loudly in his chest like waves crashing against the shore.

Inhaling sharply, he brought the mixture to his own mouth, pouring the entirety of its contents — his brain barely registering the sour medicinal taste before Shen swiftly closed the distance between them. Warm, pliant lips parted easily for his, and he brought a hand to rest gently behind Zed’s head, guiding the half-conscious man into a steady recline; the potent mixture gliding easily into the sickly hot mouth.

Their lips formed a tight seal against one another, preventing the Corydalis from escaping. And Shen basked amidst an undeniably pleasing warmth until he felt the telltale signs of throat muscles contracting to swallow the solution. He tried desperately to focus solely on the dire urgency of their situation, to focus on the task at hand. But his thoughts unwillingly wandered to his unsettling dream, and for reasons his mind refused to process, he was reluctant to pull away — his body outright ignoring his commands.

When logic finally reminded him of whose lips it was, Shen mustered the control to pull back. And he would have, had he not suddenly found himself paralyzed by the warm tongue that had sensuously slipped into his mouth, moving with ardent slowness; the sour taste of medicine still present, but soon replaced with an unsuspecting sweetness. A soft, deep groan of carnal approval accompanied the imploring muscle as it teasingly began to coax Shen from hiding, inviting him into the hot cavern and igniting a maddening wave of dizzying lust in him. The tongue gently grazed the scab of his cut lip, a cut  _Zed_ had only recently just given him, before boldly dancing alongside his own; the taste of copper faintly shared between them.

Between the hot breaths and languid nature of the kiss, Shen learned a single truth.

It was the kind of revelation you experienced once or twice in your life, if at all. It was the moment of silence and clarity between seeing the blinding flash of lightning and hearing the distant sound of thunder follow soon after. This was the kind of kiss that shattered the very skies and tore the foundation of your world asunder, making you question everything you knew while answering questions you never asked. The kind of kiss that, for an instant, made one forget duty or destiny. The kind of kiss that promised Shen any other lips against his would be wrong.

That anyone but _Zed_ would be wrong.

It was terrifying. It was impossible. It was threatening. It could not be allowed to continue.

And yet Shen found himself melting deeper and deeper into the kiss, forgetting the world around them, forgetting where they were and how they got there; and wanting nothing more than to drown forever in this moment. But the scalding heat radiating from Zed’s face was enough to snap him back to reality, and he drew back sharply from the inviting warmth; panting incredulously at his own uncharacteristic lack of restraint, his face burning with embarrassment.

When golden eyes finally summoned the courage to meet crimson orbs, he found that the other had already surrendered to a drug-induced slumber. And at that moment, he couldn't decide if he was overwhelmed with relief that he had somehow been spared from facing the man, or trapped with a crippling dread that it would be an unavoidable eventuality.

But then...that was a problem for future Shen.

Taking longer than he should have to find his bearings, he hurriedly set out to repack their belongings, hastily shouldering both bags before darting back to Zed’s side. Moving with as much care as he could afford with the clock still against them, he hoisted the unconscious man onto his back, grunting slightly at the weight. Calloused hands found their way securely beneath toned thighs, and arms dangled loosely on either side of Shen’s head — the burning forehead pressed against his neck serving as a constant reminder of what was at stake. Zed was by no means a light man, and his muscular build would make the trip undoubtedly strenuous. Unhelpfully, Shen was reminded once more that his own body was moving on fumes — that he too had been traveling non-stop for over 24 hours.

But it was a race against time.

He darted through the brush, unadjusted to the solid weight pressed against his back and misjudging his own speed and steps — clipping his cheeks and arms against protruding branches as he struggled to find his balance right until the very moment they finally burst from the woods onto the beaten path.

Shen quickly broke into a brisk, determined jog in the darkness; hardly able to make out the path ahead. _‘Half a day’s journey to the nearest village…’_ , he reminded himself. He would not stop. He _could_ not stop. Not even when his lungs were set ablaze and the linings of his throat seemed to corrode from the acidic bile that threatened to escape. Not even when his muscles screamed in excruciating pain and were reduced to a liquid-like numbness. Not even when his oxygen and sleep-deprived brain began to rob him of his vision and mental clarity.

_‘Half a day…’_

But Zed might have less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I had most of it written over a week ago but it seemed incomplete, so I combined it with a bit of the next chapter. 
> 
> As always, if you ever feel compelled to, I do appreciate hearing what you guys have to say about the chapters; you've been awesome sources of motivation. And, of course, I'm open to feedback on how to improve!


	5. Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW the chapter ends up being significantly longer than all the first chapters combined. This is just a quick warning guys, you might want to read this one in parts ( ; v ; ) it's over 17.2k words. Aha. 
> 
> I sincerely apologize for taking so long, life you know? :/

Shen often dreamt of the dark.

Of an eternal, unending dark.

Of being lost amidst a vast, empty void that stretched out in all directions, infinite and absolute. A boundless, bottomless ocean of black; barren and disconnected from reality and the tangible realms of man. It was the kind of darkness that blighted one’s senses. Where sight offered no discernable change and the blind man was no less wise than his counterpart. The kind of darkness one could taste, that one could breathe. Like a tangible, sickly ink, the atmosphere felt dense; more liquid than gas. As though one need swallow rather than breathe its thickened air. It was the kind of darkness one could drown in; the kind reserved for the deepest depths of the ocean. Hundreds of leagues down, where the insurmountable, gargantuan weight of the world seemed to pulverize all life. The kind of darkness one was dwarfed in; found only beyond the farthest reaches of the observable universe – where even the final echoes of light from an infinite mass of dying stars could not collectively penetrate its timeless, deathless dusk.

Yes, Shen often dreamt of the dark. Of a familiar, unfailing dark. And in his dreams some part of him whispered that the unseen horizons of this perpetual, enduring twilight had been borne solely for him.

Borne _of_ him. Or perhaps of what was left.

In these dreams he was alone. Adrift and disoriented. A still, weightless mass amidst a sea of nothingness. The only occupant intruding upon a place that knew nothing but quiet, undisturbed desolation.

In these dreams, he was fading. His soul ever so slowly withering, wasting away. Not a warrior’s end, nor even that of a martyr – but instead tragic only in that it was an entirely unremarkable and forgettable death.

In these dreams, Shen “the man” was gone, and all that remained was a husk. His mind an empty, tattered mirror of his surroundings; a ruined reflection of his blackened bastille – and gone with it the need for watchful eyes to enforce his captivity.

In these dreams he felt separated. Detached and unresponsive. A puppeteer pulling helplessly at severed strings. He was a man disconnected from his body; numb to its needs, ignorant of its desires. Starved of its humanity.

In these dreams, his body had never truly been his to begin with. A tool that he had no true rights over. A borrowed ornament to facilitate some grand agenda conjured by faceless elders. A grand purpose which, one fulfilled, would result in his inevitable return to obsolescence.

In these dreams, he wasn’t Shen at all.

But instead, a vacant chamber robbed of all the pieces that once formed his collective consciousness; that together forged the very foundation of his identity. His principles and beliefs. His passions and fears. His motivations and memories. Gone. All gone. Devoured by the encroaching darkness.

So far gone, in fact, that he could hardly remember what precious things had apparently been taken from him.

Or if they had been precious at all.

In his dreams, he was a blank slate. And however much he willed it, his thoughts refused to come to him. As though his mind had grown a sentience of its own and now revolted; a desperate declaration that it was too weak and exhausted to continue the agonizing routine of his daily deliberations. Too tired to humor the growing human horrors that came with the burden of responsibility.

And when consciousness finally came, it _crawled_.

A slow, deliberate crawl; like a taunting torment in tandem with the rise and fall of his chest. They brought brief and precious seconds of alertness before painstakingly slipping away.

Every second of sight was followed by two more of blindness.

And there was a rhythm. A rhythm to how awake he was at any given moment. A rhythm to the stagnant stream of limited information his brain seemed able to process. Information that he struggled not to squander within the brief windows of waning cognition he had.

But slowly they came.

Bits and pieces.

Strings of thoughts. Fragments of memories found their way back to him, like murmurs in the dark.

Of the Kinkou.

Of the Eye.

Of him.

He felt an incomplete sense of awareness. A constrained kind of cognizance that left him crippled in the dark, entrapped by his ignorance — uncertain of whether or not he could trust himself. He was a prisoner here. A prisoner to his own cold, unresponsive shell; to the empty, polite, perfectly imperfect husk he had spent years molding and disciplining to serve the noble causes of greater men.

To serve the Kinkou.

But he felt trapped, the invisible walls of this stifling darkness even now constricting upon him.

How long had he been here?

Had he intended to be here?

Was this where he was meant to be?

Was this his final destination?

Had the culmination of all his efforts led him here?

Was he alone?

Was this the end?

Perhaps this thought alone should have left him shaken. Perhaps he should have wept pleadingly, or erupted into a surge of rampant rage, or howled desperately into the darkness until salvation returned his call.

Perhaps he should have done any of the number of things a person might do in the face of such an inexplicably tragic fate. Anything at all.

But he did nothing. Not because he was powerless or because he had been robbed of the choice. No, it was a much more deliberate act than that. He _chose_ to do nothing. He _consciously_ did not fight this fate. His fate.

If he truly was trapped within some coma-like nightmare, then the severity of his situation seemed entirely lost upon him. Seemed to carry absolutely no power or weight over him. Posed no threat against his terrifyingly steadfast stoicism. Even when it perhaps should have.

He felt no fear. No anxiety. Not even a muted sense of concern.

In truth, he felt nothing. Nothing but an unrelenting sense of indifference.

And rather than be shaken by such an unsettling insight into the alarming progression of his apathy, he felt liberated. Freed. Unencumbered of the expendables, of all that once weighed him down.

He had traded hindrances for clarity. A willing trade.

The words formed in his mouth, _‘The eye is blind to fear, to hate, to love – to all things that would sway equilibrium',_ and it was enough for him. He answered only ever to duty and nothing more. And empty men made for perfect vessels when it came to promises of purpose.

Silently, he allowed himself to slip back into the darkness.

And silently, something slips away from him.

All that he had regained thus far. The remnants of a man named Shen that he had managed to scavenge in this hellscape. Everything seems to fade. One by one, the things once precious or familiar, even the insignificant things, begin to blur together in balance.

Equalizing until they are all worth the same.

Equalizing until they are all worth nothing.

Nothing but distant echoes in the back of his mind.

Not gone. Not quite like before.

Still there. Present. Available should he decide to reach for them. But gone in all the ways that mattered.

They are _less_ to him. Less of everything. Less visible. Less valuable. Less important.

Just _less_.

Perhaps nothing had been stolen by the encroaching darkness after all.

Perhaps they had been given.

Perhaps he had given them.

Given them all, one by one.

And when there is nothing left to return, he waits.

He waits until he cannot recall what he’s waiting for. He waits until there is nothing left to wait for. He waits until time ceases to bear any meaning to him. Until he is no longer waiting. A perpetual dreamer in an empty world crafted just for him.

Briefly he wonders if he truly is dreaming… After all, did dreamers not awaken upon realizing this fact? Did their dreams not collapse violently upon itself the very moment one realized that the pillars supporting their fantasy was a falsehood?

Perhaps he was neither awake nor asleep, but caught somewhere in-between. Conscious, but trapped within a death-like slumber. Was the prospect truly so impossible? This feeling. This place. They were not entirely unfamiliar to him.

He had visited such places before; felt as he did now during the deepest of his meditations. During the most demanding days of his youth when his father had first begun his private mentorship. When his Master had first begun to disclose teachings of their ancient arts and ushered him into the ethereal planes of the spirit realm. When he first learned the paralyzing strain of forcing his soul to enter a plane of existence it was not meant for.

But they never stayed. Never long.

No. His father had warned him fiercely of lingering too long where mortals did not belong. That it was easy to forget.

Forget who you are.

Forget who you were.

Forget how to leave.

That man was not made to linger in the dark.

Was that the answer? Was he now somehow lost within the eternal twilight of the Spirit Realm?

Was there still a chance at waking up?

Did he want to wake up?

He mused over the prospect of being trapped in this place for eternity. And somehow, the idea does not frighten him the way it once might have — the solitude of it. The isolation. The silence. The finality. It would be a grand escape from all that sought to drain the life from him. And above all else, if he truly had failed his Master and their Order, then he had at least been spared from his shame.

Dream or not, he might have allowed himself to accept this end. To embrace his pseudo prison and defend whatever designs the darkness had in store for him. To retain what little safety the unknown offered him.

But something was denying him his peace.

Even now he could feel its eyes upon him like daggers, lurking in the darkness and acting independently of his will. A paralyzing panic gripped him, and he felt his first real sense of urgency in this place – a frantic desperation to defend his hollow haven. And it was an instinct that finally awoke him from his drunken, apathetic stupor.

Something, somehow, had invaded his domain.

Thoughts of respite came to a spine-chilling end when he realized that this monster had always been there, observing from a distance. Waiting. Inching closer and closer with every passing breath, whispering to him. And the harder he resisted it’s call, the more he seemed to hasten its arrival.

Sounds crawled weakly to him, like dampened, distant echoes far beyond his reach. Unintelligible whispers, subdued by a sea of shadows, found their way to him through the ominous onyx labyrinth. And they brought forth with them one of the pieces he had once willingly surrendered. A single, insignificant, incoherent fragment of a memory.

Like a solitary fraying thread laid before him, tempting him to unravel his fiction.

He knew he’d have to trade the peace he’d given everything to earn the moment he faced the beast lurking in the black – but he wasn’t ready. How could he be? Not after feeding into the darkness all that once mattered to him? Not after he had given all that he once cherished. All so he could earn this painless, perpetual respite.

If he surrendered now, all he had sacrificed until this moment would have been for naught.

And so with no small measure of desperation, he resisted the horror’s call. Resisted its appetite to lay waste to his ocean of calm. Resisted with every fiber of his soul to evade its reach. A pitiful, futile resistance that he could feel failing miserably, efforts entirely wasted as the nightmarish creature drew closer and closer still – its slow approach now replaced with a horrific, unrelenting charge. Until all that was left was for him to brace against the inevitable incursion.

And when it came, he expected a cataclysmic current that devastated all within its reach. Or perhaps some savage display of brutal carnage that tore his sanctuary asunder. Of any manner of cruel things that might finally bring a close to his empty and unremarkable life.

But he could not have been more wrong.

For when it came, this demon lurking in dusk, this creature that threatened to lay waste to his temple of tranquility – it was frail. Not a creature at all, but a feeling. Dull and muted.

Warmth.

It began as warmth.

Just warmth.

Only the faintest memory of its sensation.

But however dim or distant the memory it hailed from, it was enough.

He remembered warmth.

 _Shen_ remembered warmth.

Remembered how it pulsed within him, tranquil and soothing; a revitalizing, restorative glow. How it washed over his body and stoked the dull cinders of his soul anew, like stepping out into the sun and bathing in the daylight for the first time after days of being buried in darkness. How it promised him a life free of trials and tribulations. Of woes and worries. Of suffering and sacrifice. How it promised him of seasons passing untainted by an unending cycle of discord. Of slow, quiet, and uneventful days accompanied by the blissful ignorance of a youth long past.

How it promised of more. Promised that there was so much more than he knew or could ever know.

And the warmth persisted, growing larger still. A stubborn fire that refused to be doused even beneath his ocean of apathy, blazing until it was a blinding, searing inferno — so bright that it ceased to be a memory at all, and his hands instinctively came to the protection of his eyes, guarding him against the very real dazzling glow that now erupted before him.

And all at once, the world around him seemed to take shape. Vibrant swirls of colors in nonsensical forms invaded the darkness like a coiling serpent, spiraling unbound and unimpeded; untwining like wildly growing roots. Roots of light that leapt and shot-out in all directions, vanquishing the void in an unstoppable conquest for control before eventually solidifying into familiar images, crisp and clear.

The sky. Trees. Gravel. Air. And more. So much more.

A world violently formed around him, and he shrunk beneath the calamity of light until it snuffed out the last remnants of shadows that lingered in the corners, finally coming to an abrupt halt. He waited until the world and everything around him grew still. Until the familiar stability of solid ground was present beneath his feet once more, and fresh air filled his lungs, purging the thickened filth that remained.

With shaky breaths, Shen tentatively allowed his hands to fall to his side; wincing briefly as his eyes strained to adjust to the sudden re-introduction of daylight. And only after a long moment of hesitation did he gather the courage and clarity to truly digest his surroundings.

All around him, as far as the eye could see, was a breathtaking display of sunburst painted trees and a forest every shade of a flickering flame; like a sea of torches. Fall leaves danced above his head like flecks of embers; brilliant and blazing bright wisps in the wind.

And in an instant, he felt reborn.

The darkness that came before now a distant, ambiguous, delirious nightmare. And gone with it was the empty husk – the hellion of twilight that wore his face and shared his name but nothing else.

 _‘I’m awake’_ , he endeavored to convince himself. _‘Awoken from a bad dream’._

Awoken and overwhelmed by the sudden barrage upon his senses, though they were undeniably sensations he welcomed refreshingly despite their obtrusive nature. He was so overwhelmed, in fact, that he had hardly noticed his heart still racing from the abrupt, shocking reversal of realities. And swallowing sharply, he strove to reclaim the reigns and compose himself, steadily gathering his thoughts.

Steady breaths.

Inhaling deeply, he found the courage to shut his eyes; reminding himself that the darkness was only temporary.

Steady breaths.

He was awake now, he had escaped the spirit realm. This had simply been another lesson to be learned. He was safe.

Steady breaths.

This was real. It had to be. He needed it to be.

Steady breaths.

Exhaling slowly, Shen gradually opened his eyes. But his panic, while largely subdued, was still sustained by a single, solitary question. One that gnawed at the back of his mind until the flesh was left raw. One that once again threatened to challenge his newly formed illusion: _‘What am I forgetting?’_

He knew that the answer was important, but his mind seemed to struggle to maintain its grip on the question; as though forcing his brain to reconcile with the conflicting information of the irrational change from dark to light. Forcing him to abandon logic and reason in favor of blind admission.

And despite his efforts, it was not long before he found his doubts eerily slipping away, vanishing along with anything that transpired before this very moment. Until the thought had never even occurred to him to ask. Until his brain conjured up a story to appease the doubts.

Until he fell victim to the same fate that befell all dreamers, and found himself entirely immersed in the narrative of his new reality; and all he could focus on was the beautiful, flame colored scenery.

Golden eyes eagerly drank in the spectacular, sunset hued woodlands; but upon closer inspection, he felt his chest tightening sharply in nostalgia. He knew this trail. He knew this trail well. This was a trail he’d often taken in his youth. A trail he had not traveled upon for many summers. A trail he had not visited since—

“Shen?”

Instantly he froze. Felt the hairs on his arms rise, his body stiffening and breath hitching sharply in surprise; his muscles tensing and blood pulsing rapidly in response to the potential threat. There was another. Another here with him. Behind him. _Closely_ behind him. His still recovering mind seemed unable to formulate any coherent thought aside from registering his own dumbfounded shock. And his doubts from earlier might have even resurfaced had his mind not quickly went to work.

 _‘Of course, there is’_ , his own voice intervened, eager to correct the suspicion and reconcile the new reality once more. _‘There was always someone there. You didn’t come this far alone’._ And forcing his body to slowly turn and face the stranger, Shen released a breath he had not realized he had been holding.

_'I’m awake. And this is real’_

And only upon fully facing his forgotten traveling companion did he realize how desperately he was willing to accept that this were true. How he hoped he wasn’t imagining the clear scarlet eyes that weighed him with sincere concern, nor the subtle and very human arch of an inquisitive eyebrow at his own odd behavior. How he hoped he wasn’t imagining the comfortable, unguarded posture; as though the short distance between them were the most natural thing in the world. How he hoped he wasn’t imagining all the little gestures, pieces and signs that collectively signaled the existence of a very real and remarkably deep, fond attachment – the kind of which his life saw so very little of.

Normally, he would have jumped at the opportunity to reciprocate his sibling’s affection. But he could only stare, mouth agape, still very visibly trying to find his bearings. And scarlet eyes in turn reflected only vexation and growing concern.

“…are you unwell, brother?”

If he was still trapped within the spirit realm or lost within some twisted dream, he felt himself being consumed by its visions; merging with this new, much younger and infinitely more naïve iteration of himself. Merging with memories of a time long past. Content with allowing himself and his doubts to dissolve into the pleasant narrative. And once again, acceptance came easily. He questioned nothing. Nothing else mattered. Only that he was here and that here was safe. Surely, he belonged here. Where else was there?

The pieces fell into place, and whatever failed to fit into the gaps, his brain ignored. Recovering from his astonishment, Shen realized that he had been staring blankly at his brother long enough for the look of concern to transform into one of thinly veiled displeasure. And to no surprise, his silence and complete failure to acknowledge that he had been asked a question had not gone unnoticed.

“I… Yes”, he began roughly, taking a moment to find his voice. “I think… I might have traversed… no, perhaps I was… merely asleep?...” he offered meagerly, the choppy response earning him a look of judgement befitting of its inadequacy. But after a bristly measuring look, Zed shook his head in a warm, albeit chastising manner; chiding him sharply beneath a hushed tone.

“If you truly traversed the spirit realm then that is a feat to be celebrated, brother—”, Shen tensed in pleasant surprise when a hand rested on his shoulder and tightened encouragingly, vibrant crimson orbs curling in proud approval before hardening into a cautioning look. “—but you should be mindful of Master’s words. Until you’ve mastered this art, it would be unwise to gamble your life so recklessly. How am I to bring you home should you vanish from this plane of existence entirely? And more importantly, with you gone, who am I to humiliate in front of our master during duels?”

Zed offered Shen a playful and dangerous smile, one that clearly invited him to counter the remark with a jibe of his own if only to free the man from whatever boredom currently griped him. But Shen could only stare blankly in return, presently too preoccupied enjoying the comforting brotherly exchange to venture a witty retort. Smile faltering at the lack of a response, his brother’s expression flipped astonishingly fast into a sour look of disappointment.

“On the other hand, if you _were_ sleeping—” a sudden sharp pain in his shoulder caused Shen to flinch ever so slightly, shooting his brother an unappreciative look but effectively awakening from his overly-pleased state “—then _wake up_. You’d best not let him catch you daydreaming, else _I’ll_ be the one to hear of it”

Brows furrowing in confusion, Shen managed an uncertain response, “…him?”

His clearly dim-witted inquiry seemed only to fuel his sibling’s irritation, but his attention quickly shifted when he registered the distant sound of an elder man’s voice; no more than 15 paces ahead. Golden orbs reluctantly tore away from his brother’s scolding look, navigating down the trail to the man in question; his eyes finally resting upon the deep wine-red head of hair that famously belonged to the Master of the Kinkou Order himself. Kusho walked with a relaxed posture as he made his way down the winding path, seemingly having yet to notice that his sons were no longer following him – or was at least making some effort to pretend he had not noticed.

A stunningly scenic forest trail unfolded before the trio, and a dazzling layer of autumn-hued leaves crunched softly beneath their father’s languid, easy steps. The crisp, fresh wind carried Kusho’s lighthearted tone, which sang endless praising’s of Ioania’s splendor; pausing his veneration only when he saw an opportunity to weave in sage-like guidance.

“Truly, few are as blessed as we, who were born upon a land of such bounty… do you not feel the very heart of our homeland pulse beneath us?”, he mused loudly, as though announcing it to some out-of-sight traveler.

“And greater still the honor bestowed upon us, that we might safeguard our home from those that would wish harm upon it… “, aged hands gently grazed against one of the towering flame colored trees, as though offering respect to some ancient beast. But his eyes shifted solemnly towards the southern coasts, towards the pieces of their homeland that had been stolen from them. That continued to be ravaged and desecrated by outsiders, demons that flooded the beaches in hordes of black and red.

“A land built upon the sacrifices of our ancestors. And a legacy that now befalls us to uphold… Make no mistake—”, his tone grew stern and steady “—it is by the balance of all things that Ionia has yet to meet its demise against the changing tides…”

And though the preaching’s were by no means words he and his sibling had not heard before, Shen could not help but feel inspired all the same by their wholesome sincerity. And his own blossoming admiration for the spectacular scenery and pride in their Order seemed to swell in hearty agreement. It was a joy not easily matched, and yet it was vastly overshadowed by the blissful elation that struck him upon sneaking a glance at his brother during the lecture and discovering that scarlet eyes mirrored his own marvel.

Zed was locked in silent concentration upon their master’s back — absorbing the teachings with the same engrossed diligence the ruby-eyed student had likely expressed the _first_ time the wisdom had been imparted to him so many years ago. It was an earnestness that never seemed to fade; the only source of devotion amidst hundreds of fellow clansmen that seemed to challenge his own. And his brother seemed to wholeheartedly hang upon each word as though it were immeasurably more valuable than the last.

Shen struggled to contain his own compounding delight at the sight and was certain it would have been visible to anyone who walked by; eventually surfacing itself as a candid smile upon his features. It was perhaps an odd thing to feel such jubilance over, and certainly not something he could ever explain without irreversibly embarrassing himself. But it was precisely during such moments that he felt closest to his sibling. When he could irrefutably feel the bond between them grow stronger with every word their father spoke, unified by their common belief. Unified in their shared purpose. Unified in their devotion towards their duty.

“Zed, if you care for your brother as you claim to, you’d take greater strides in encouraging him to heed my words”

Awakening sharply from his stupor at the reproachful tone, Shen realized that he had allowed himself to lapse back into his own personal musings for longer than intended; consequently, failing to hear the continuation of their father’s lecture. And judging by the admonishing look of disappointment he was being given at having just been caught staring at his brother, the words had likely been directed towards him.

His mouth parted but failed to produce a palpable defense or suitable apology in the face of the man’s exasperation; whose lips now pulled into a tight line snuggly framed beneath his vibrant red beard. Shen’s floundering might have grown into the thing of legends had it not been for Zed quickly intervening.

“You give me too much credit master, surely you cannot expect that I alone would hold dominion over where my brother’s thoughts wander—” he defended with feigned exhaustion and irritation. And realizing he had just been offered an escape, Shen felt his shoulders relax in a silent show of appreciation for the rescue. And he might have smiled gratefully at his rescuer had he not caught sight of the telltale signs of a smirk forming teasingly in the corner of his sibling’s lips.

“—Or his eyes for that matter”

Face flaring hot with embarrassment, extending to the tips of his ears, he shot his brother a vicious frown of betrayal. Instantly, he wished he’d at least had his mask as a last line of defense to guard against his visible unease; but as was custom whenever traveling civilian routes, all three of them were garbed as merchants to detract attention. He knew he’d done nothing wrong, that he had absolutely no reason to feel flustered; and yet he felt embarrassed all the same that he’d been caught staring distractedly at his brother for the better part of the lecture.

And to his infinitely multiplying dismay, the smirk only seemed to grow at the sight of his budding bashfulness.

“Does the back of my head interest you, brother?” came the less than innocent remark, Zed’s hand reaching back to inspect the nape of his own neck mockingly; a light-hearted, smug expression not once faltering from his youthful face. Golden eyes narrowed defensively, and making a valiant effort to salvage the situation, Shen readied himself for the verbal sparring that would ensue.

“Indeed, it does. It truly is quite miraculous that something so distractingly _large_ could endeavor to contain so very _little_. One of the Great Wonders of Ionia, really”, he retorted calmly, adjusting the supplies strapped to his back in an attempt to appear nonchalant. But his less than solid effort to mask his obvious lack of poise was thwarted by a sudden, irritating bark of laughter.

“Oh? Am I a wonder to you, brother?”

“Only in that your ego is surely matched by none”

“Well, better a barren mind with space yet to learn than a boastful one brimming with waste and envy”

"Envy?”, Shen snapped defensively. “And you presume to know what presides in my thoughts?”

“Better still—”, Zed began confidently, “I presume to know _who_ presides in your thoughts”

Shen felt the heat in his face return ten-fold at the merciless refusal to move past his earlier blunder; and they grew hotter still when ruby eyes curled in delight of his discomfort.

“No need to be shy, brother. There’s no shame in admitting the sight of me still presses upon the wounds of your latest _humiliating_ defeat this morning. Though admittedly, the sentiment does come at some surprise. After all, you really are no stranger to losing—”

“Defeat?”, he interrupted incredulously with renewed confidence. “I did not take you for the type to resort to fantasies to justify what was clearly _your_ loss”, Shen could hardly suppress the competitive smirk that now threatened to conquer his own features.

“Oh? Am I to be lectured of fantasies from the very mouth of man who, not minutes ago, was caught daydreaming during a lesson? How shameful brother, does your hypocrisy know no end?” Scarlet eyes gleamed with exaggerated disapproval; and soon, spirited smiles had blossomed between them both.

“Any other fantasies you care to entertain us with?”, Zed motioned with a dramatic gesture of his hand to himself and their father, who had long since wisely ventured further along the trail. Kusho could be heard even now sighing audibly in the distance, though this time it had come from a place of deep affection. Pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, he grumbled tiredly to himself with well-aged fatherly fatigue.

“Your physiques betray the children within”, he scolded lightly.

“You are both growing into capable men—” pausing hesitantly, his features scrunched with mild annoyance as he eyed them disapprovingly over his shoulder, “—however long and painful the journey towards manhood has often been”

“And your match this morning was your most impressive yet”, he added thoughtfully, a hand toying habitually at his beard before offering words the two had grown accustomed to hearing over their lifetime.“Though from where I stood, there is yet to be an apparent victor”.

Giving them each one last measuring look, he spared them from harsher words, instead concluding stringently. “You’ve both come a long way, but you both still have plenty yet to learn. From me. And from each other”

The two nodded formally in acknowledgement, but it was immediately obvious to Kusho that the earlier energy they had cultivated from their verbal joust had yet to be entirely extinguished. And he hardly had a moment to roll his eyes before his sons were quickly at one another with renewed vigor.

“You are, of course, correct father”, Shen quickly opened, “Though some of us have been more diligent than others in our studies and training regimes”. Finishing his declaration and setting the bait, he eyed his sibling with an eager, impatient smile.

“Perhaps mastery of mind and form comes more easily to some of us than others, dear brother”, came the confident acceptance of his duel, and Shen’s own smile had now evolved into a fully blown grin.

“Is that so?”

To his delight, Zed met him challengingly in return, “Care to reenact that debacle you call swordplay from this morning?”

And without further provocation needed, Shen’s fist launched towards his brother’s abdomen, who pivoted sharply and avoided the incursion by a fraction of a hair; bursting into a fit of laughter at the failed albeit invited attempt. Fists and kicks began to fly from either combatant, only to be met in turn by a string of practiced guards and near misses. And it wasn’t long before their banter and mirth filled the charming forest trail with renewed life.

Though what began as genuine, intelligent criticisms regarding form, the art of combat, and superiority of prowess quickly devolved into an immature squabble befitting of young men. One that had their father walking hurriedly further ahead in embarrassment of being seen with them.

“I am by far the stronger of us!” Shen declared firmly between huffs of laughs and half-hearted attempts to strike his brother down.

“And I the smarter!”, Zed retaliated, avoiding yet another blow to his chest with an impressive show of agility – though it was the choke of incredulous laughter from Shen’s insulting disbelief at the remark that had truly given Zed the opening to land the first hit, smacking his brother with added annoyed zest. Autumn leaves sprayed and danced in a whirlwind around them; a heart-warming chaos brought about by a thrilling display of proficient footwork despite the casual, cheery nature of their brawl.

Which grew pettier still.

“I’m bigger” Shen announced proudly, spreading his arms as if to punctuate this observation while he strafed decisively around his sibling; an uncharacteristic show of confidence reserved only for such moments, and a show that would shortly lead to his downfall. Ambitiously, he chose an opening to lunge at his smug companion, hoping to bring the friendly feud to a decisive close. But within a fraction of his feet kicking off the ground, he caught sight of the man’s lips curling deviously at his earlier declaration.

“Not where it counts, I’m afraid.”

And ever the opportunist, he quickly used Shen’s abrupt, stunned embarrassment at the quip to his advantage; kicking up a flurry of leaves and blinding him long enough to shift evasively from the direct line of attack. Losing both his target and his footing amidst the confusion, Shen had milliseconds to recover or risk nearly faceplanting into the ground. And without anything presently available but the hardened gravel to absorb his momentum, he expertly shifted his weight into a roll; pushing roughly off the calloused palms of his hands and vaulting agilely back onto his feet, spinning around to find an irritatingly amused Zed smiling contentedly back at him.

Dusting himself off and grumbling, he shot his sibling a sharp look of annoyance, “A _foul_ mind befitting of _foul_ tricks. You play dirty, brother”.

But Zed only seemed to grow more pleased, dismissing the remark with a brusque shrug of his shoulders. “I play to my strengths. Or rather, your weaknesses”.

Kusho had long since left them to expend whatever energy they had miraculously mustered despite hours of traveling, and could now be found leaning against a nearby tree languidly inspecting their supplies. Quietly, he grumbled to himself that he’d have been better off with a polite, disciplined pair of daughters instead; all the while making sure to keep enough distance between them that he might not mistakenly be recognized as the keeper of a pair of fools.

“My fools”, he huffed to himself in admission beneath a thick, burgundy beard.

For a moment, Shen and Zed merely weighed one another in silence; neither satisfied without an obvious conclusion to their brawl or clear victor between them.

“Bigger?” Shen inquired of the earlier remark between heavy breaths.

“Bigger” Zed affirmed in kind.

“You seem confident. Dare I ask how you’ve come to be certain of such…delicate information?”

“We grew up together, there were many opportunities. You’ll have to take my word for it. I am not so savage nor so callous that I would salt your wounds, numerous as they are”, Zed punctuated with an added smirk.

“Your words I can trust. Your eyes less so, knowing where they’re inclined to linger”, Shen teased crudely, in turn earning himself a hard look of ruby-eyed disgust that had him stifling his laughter.

“What’s the matter, brother? I thought we were sharing fantasies”

“ _Your_ fantasies, yes”. Came Zed’s sharp retort, “But I fortunately do not share your skill at pedaling falsehoods. And in this _particular_ subject, unfortunately for you, fewer things are as absolute”, he concluded brusquely before offering a self-satisfied smirk. “I believe you described it as ‘yet another Great Wonder of Ionia’?”.

The parroted remark only fed into Shen’s ever-growing smile, “I believe you may be quoting me out of context”

“Am I? Not when I retell the story. And fear not, brother, I’ll be sure to capture the full intensity of your awe”

“Oh? I’m in awe of you now?”, golden eyes curled playfully.

“Of the deepest degree, I’m afraid. It’s a nuisance really”

“Goodness, you poor soul. How ever do you deal with such unwelcome adoration?”

For a moment, Zed’s eyes searched his own, beaming a lustrous sanguine before lips slowly tugged into a discreet smile. “I never said it was unwelcome”

And Shen felt it again. The warmth. The very same warmth that brought him here. The warmth that now swallowed him. It was a warmth, he told himself, that came strictly from a place of brotherly affection, endearment, and nothing else. A warmth that all loving and doting siblings must have experienced. A warmth that was not unique to the two of them. But it was a warmth that had Shen taking an unconscious step towards his sibling.

After a long silence, Zed seemed to shift uncomfortably where he stood. And though it was obvious great effort had gone into disguising it, Shen knew his brother well enough to catch his posture noticeably stiffening beneath his extended gaze; and it wasn’t long before tense, muscular arms folded neatly across his chest in an unconscious effort to put some distance between them.

“Alright, I stand corrected—”, Zed began, his guarded composure less than perfect to the scrutiny of a familiar eye, a cautioning albeit harmless look of warning taking hold of his features, “—your awe and adoration is no longer welcome”

And Shen saw it. His opportunity to seize a much-deserved victory. A small opening borne from the surprising awkwardness that had bloomed. He had been measuring the distance between them throughout the course of their silence. Five steps. He could cover it in one lunge, but he’d need to be quick. Enough time for his brother to react, but not enough for him to unfurl his arms and still maintain his balance upon Shen’s approach.

Wasting no more time, he kicked off the ground with remarkable force, shredding the dirt beneath him and launching himself forward; noting with satisfaction as ruby eyes grew wide and arms had predictably sprung up to defend against the sudden assault – but it was far too late. In seconds, the two collided, and Zed was wrestled onto the ground by brute force; the wind momentarily knocked out of both their lungs.

A giant plume of leaves burst into the air from the fall, accompanied by a combination of incredulous complaints and animated laughter. Pinning his brother beneath him, Shen was quick to gather the bundle of autumn leaves on either side of them and bury his sibling, smothering him beneath the foliage while simultaneously trying not to wince at the barrage of mostly harmless jabs aimed at his ribs.

“When will you stop resorting to tackling me like some beast!?” Pride likely wounded, Zed snarled in outrage, momentarily increasing the strength and aggressiveness behind his strikes as if to spell his words with bruises.

“When it stops working” Shen choked between laughter and winces, not allowing the charge to discourage his own endless attack of dead foliage. “‘I play to my strengths, or rather your weaknesses’“, he parroted with an extraordinarily satisfied grin, earning himself yet a another snarl of indignation from bellow.

“Besides, you’re less inclined to playing unfairly from this posi—Gah!!” An acute pain sang from just above his groin, where his brother had saw fit to land a particularly heavy hit. Grunting in pain, he could do little but slowly curl forward into his brother in sharp discomfort, resting his forehead upon the solid panting chest below and shutting his eyes tightly in a show of muted agony. For several moments they both lay entirely still, Zed breathing heavily and lost beneath several layers of dead vegetation with Shen hunched atop him, groaning and muscles spasming in misery; nurturing his injury with one hand.

“…Thank you”, Shen choked out eventually.

“For?...” came the muffled response from beneath the curtain of leaves.

“For…aiming higher”

“Ah… Well… Don’t thank me so soon. I wouldn’t have missed had the target been bigger”

And despite the pain and exhaustion, they both broke into fatigued coughs of laughter. Shen felt his heart sing at the sounds that rang clearly through the woods. Felt it grow warm as the chest beneath him rumbled with a deep rich sound. Felt a happiness few would know as he struggled once more not to let the man wrestle him off with renewed efforts. But it did not last.

“Is this any way for the young master to be behaving?” Zed growled innocently between jabs, muscles straining to dislodge himself from beneath the offending weight. His attacks and efforts slowing only when he noticed that the merriment had faded from Shen’s eyes. Golden orbs had grown somber, the once delighted expression slackening into one of dejection.

The title had touched upon a deeply seated and well-guarded anxiety. A title that many in the order had eagerly adopted in addressing him. A title that he had grown to hate. A title that only sought to drive a wedge between him and his brother, to remind them that they were different. To remind them that they shared no blood.

It was a title that had no place between them.

“Don’t call me that”, he murmured despondently; making no effort to mask his injury. There was no need to hide when it came to his sibling, nor would he have succeeded in any effort to do so. They knew each other far too well.

After a long pause, Zed huffed a hard breath, enough to dislodge several layers of rogue leaves from his face and clear his vision to the wounded creature that hung above him; though many still stubbornly clung to his disarrayed hair. Scarlet eyes weighed him carefully, and he felt himself grow rigid beneath the unwavering gaze. And when Zed finally spoke, his voice carried an even, resolute tone; one that immediately commanded Shen’s attention.

“Watcher of Stars. Eye of Twilight. Master of the Kinkou Order. Whatever accolade or title they decide to bestow upon you, trust that you will always be Shen to me”.

And he meant it. Shen could hear it in his voice. See it in unwavering crimson. Feel it in the unspoken promise that the bond of brotherhood they shared would not so easily be broken. Briefly he wondered how he had allowed his brother to possess such command over him. How he had allowed himself to be put at ease with a simple look and a single promise. And just as soon as it had appeared, the anxiety and fear that had ravaged him had begun to dissipate; and in its place, a small secure smile was slowly restored upon his features.

Unfaltering crimson held him with a leveled, reassuring look, even after Shen carefully began to rise and dust residual leaves from his own disheveled attire. He offered his brother his hand and was pleased to see Zed smile fondly in return before clasping the extended invitation and allowing himself to be lifted easily back onto his feet. They both dusted themselves off one last time for good measure before resuming their slow walk, casting apologetic nods at their father several meters ahead; who only exhaled heavily and threw them a terrifying look he reserved for the Ionian high-council when he was displeased.

“Thank you, brother”, Shen whispered sincerely, only to receive a hard look of irritation.

“You need not offer thanks for what you will always have from me”

“But it is precisely for that reason that I never wish to take you for granted. I will always be grateful for your companionship” he confessed candidly. Zed’s hand came up and swatted him away dismissively, gesturing clearly that he would not humor any more sweet offerings of gratitude; but Shen caught sight of the infinitesimally small smile that the man was trying to conceal behind a forcibly gruff demeanor.

And perhaps it was his brother’s attempt to hide his obvious delight, or the knowledge that the promise of Shen’s unending devotion would bring his sibling such flustering joy, or the fact that the man had only just appeased his budding fears of responsibility. Whatever the case may be, something about that discreet smile seemed to eclipse all else; as though its rarity only exaggerated its radiance.

A voice in the back of his mind reprimanded him; chiding him for allowing such a simple gesture to command so profound a reaction of him. But it battled with another voice. A voice that whispered ‘for every second he surrendered of all else, he would gain a second longer of that discreet smile.’ A smile he knew was only ever revealed for him.

With his brother by his side, surely there was nothing they could not together overcome. However tumultuous the path towards becoming the Eye might be, there would always be a single constant in his life for him to rely upon. It was a comforting thought. But as inspiring as his thoughts initially began, they unveiled to him for the first time a critical gap. Something he had never quite considered.

They had always been equals, but upon rising to become the Eye, would that remain so? Would nothing truly change? They were fast approaching their father, and with Shen unable to contain his concern, he decisively made his worries known to his brother.

“If am to be the Eye… then what of you? What will your role be?…”

What he did not expect was the ensuing silence and guarded reaction, or rather lack-there-of. Zed only paused, his eyes searching Shen’s with obvious restraint before shifting carefully to their Master; who now watched them both with a measuring gaze from several feet ahead.  
Shen’s interest instantly piqued, and he looked to his father in confusion and fast-growing concern, continuing to press his point but now also painfully conscious of the sudden and unexpected shift in mood.

“Surely… the brightest student would long since have had a path drawn for him?…You are second to none in our clan after all--”

“Ah, so you admit I’m the brightest?” Zed quipped, more a deflection than anything else. But Shen would not have it.

“Zed. I’m serious”

But rather than a genuine response, his sibling quickly fell back into a restrained expression, eyes shifting away from his brother as though it might help contain the words that threatened to break free from unwilling lips. And it was then that Shen noticed their Master watching Zed expectantly, as though waiting to hear his response.

Shen’s gaze bounced between them, irritation growing, quickly realizing that he had stumbled upon something with a clear history trailing heavily behind it. But before his rage found form in the way of words, Zed spoke up.

“My place is beside you”, he began firmly. “That is my path”

Shen lips parted, eyes frantically searching Zed’s controlled expression for any hint of what lay beneath the surface. But his brother only held his gaze wordlessly. Frustrated, he turned his attention instead to his father; but Kusho remained still as stone, and Shen struggled to extract anything that might reveal the man's thoughts. Before he could uncover anything of value, their Master spoke, offering his own affirmation and giving Zed a stern albeit cryptic nod of approval.

“Indeed it is, Zed.”

But the praise seemed to go ignored, a fact that left Shen even more anxious than satisfied. His brother never passed an opportunity to receive approval of any kind from their Master, and the fact that he would do so now spoke magnitudes. He felt himself grow uneasy when he found his sibling watching him with a steady unreadable look, as if waiting for Shen to speak; and he felt his insides churn in distress at the expectant gaze.

But for the life of him, he could not find the words he thought his brother might need hear from him in that moment. And it was not long before the moment passed.

“It has been the burden of every Eye to resist the bias that persists within us all", their Master began ceremoniously. "It is not uncommon for those in your position to exercise caution and seek counsel from those they trust when faced with a difficult decision. Though it is a very fine line to walk. The judgement and the consequences that come with it must ultimately be yours alone to bear”

Scratching his bright red beard tiredly, Kusho seemed to take a moment to reflect upon his own trials, “The Eye is expected to listen. To do what is needed to understand the entirety of what is at stake. But an Eye that can persuaded is no Eye at all” he cautioned warningly. “Do not allow yourself to become a tool to your tools. And do not let yourself be anchored by them”

Shen winced, recoiling at the cold word choice and instinctively glancing at his brother through his peripheral vision; but he found no visible sign of injury. Nothing to indicate he had been affected by the callous remarks at all. He might have been relieved to see that his sibling had not at least openly derived offense from the words, but he instead found himself insulted on behalf of the now uncharacteristically silent man.

Zed was no tool to him. But did he feel the same? It was hard to believe that such an exceptionally talented and bright mind would allow his potential to be wasted by settling for something so demeaning, not when he was celebrated for his combat prowess and intelligence by all within the Kinkou’s walls. His own disapproval and disbelief seemed to swell during the silence, but as usual, Kusho was quick to attribute reason to the turmoil that now festered within him.

“Make no mistake, Shen. As the Eye, the primary function of our clan will be to ensure that your judgments are carried through to the end. Whatever they may be. The Kinkou will place their trust in you, as they have with me. They will never know the journey you are to bear, nor will they truly ever come to understand what it demands of you. But they _will_ respect you. They will see the world through your lens, and they will follow you with unmatched faith. And in return, you will become the eye in which their actions are guided”

Shen felt the weight of the pressure return. Felt the ocean upon his shoulders once more. Felt himself sinking deeper and deeper beneath its waves until even the ambient sounds of trees rustling on either side of him seemed muted and distant. He strove with every ounce of willpower left within him to maintain a confident posture — but he felt his heart falter. And the thought of failure hung over him, strung along his neck like a noose.

And slowly, he felt it constrict.

But just when his crushing anxiety seemed to crescendo, his brother’s hand rested gently upon his shoulder. And after a brief moment it tightened reassuringly. No words were exchanged. None were needed. The gesture alone was enough, and Shen found himself releasing a breath he did not realize he had been holding. Felt the fears and exhaustion he shouldered shared between them both, as though energy were visibly transferring at the point of contact. Zed watched him with hard, unwavering assurance; but it was no less warm than when ruby orbs curled in delight. It was his odd talent of communicating affection through stern looks. But the gesture did not go appreciated by all eyes, and Kusho seemed less than pleased by the intervention.

“Zed, if you cared for your brother’s progress, you’d encourage him to heed my tutelage, and not compete with me for his attention”, he scolded warningly.

“It’s hardly a competition, Master”, came the light retort, his tone a direct contrast to the present tension. Though it undoubtedly seemed to help diffuse the situation.

“Zed—” their Master began again, as though ready to berate him, but stopping himself half-way. His body visibly relaxing in favor of a more civil approach.

“My remarks towards Shen are that of a teacher to a student. They are not a personal attack on his character, but words to help him grow. A spirit can only be tempered through transgression and turmoil. How do you expect him to commit wholeheartedly and succeed as the Eye if you insist on interfering with his ability to stand on his own?”

Shen’s gaze was drawn magnetically to his brother’s hand, which had never once left his shoulder despite the reproachful tone it had invited. Not once did it falter from its place despite the obvious fact that Zed was trading their Master’s much desired praise in exchange for the opportunity to comfort his sibling. And Shen could hardly find the words to collectively express the feeling that evoked in him.

“I understand Master— “, Zed began, but his hand only tightened its grip, “—That I will do whatever is in my power protect my brother. Even if, on occasion, from you.”

And suddenly, Shen found the words that his brother had been waiting to hear. Words that seemed so clear now. But before his lips could form the sounds, everything was gone. The flame-colored trees. The vibrant autumn path. His father’s tired look.

The hand upon his shoulder.

Instead, Shen found himself staring haggardly upon an age-old wooden ceiling, one that seemed to creak unsteadily beneath its own weight. Beads of water seeped through the cracks and dripped onto a rickety linen-dressed bed that struggled to contain his own much-to-large physique.

His throat felt parched. And the words that had once sat upon readied lips were gone, forgotten entirely.

Exhaustion gripped him, wracked his body and etched itself upon his features in tired lines, and he blinked several times in a stale attempt to clear the sleep from his vision. His breathing was slow and heavy, and he could now visibly see the particles of dust in the air shift with every long exhale; glowing only when they were caught within the rays of dull light that poured in columns from the bed-side window. Distantly he could hear life, the bustling movement of a village during its waking hours.

And without warning, reality descended upon him. Like lightening striking all at once, in an instant the fatigue that once gripped him quickly gave way to a horrific, frenzied panic; one that had him possessed by a single thought. And within seconds his feet came crashing upon the wooden floor in a thundering end, his heart racing and adrenaline beginning to surge through his veins as memories of the night before and all that had led up to it flooded his mind to alertness.

Zed. Where was Zed.

In a fearsome, frantic storm, his body moved blindly towards the closest door and he swung the rickety shaft of wood with enough force that it slammed against the adjacent wall and came loose at the hinges. A sudden horrified shriek drew his attention to the shaking form of a young woman, who almost spilled the water-filled basin and supplies she was carrying atop a small tray. Large eyes stared up at Shen, petrified by his sudden startling entrance; and without a word the woman quickly spun on her heels and fled down the narrow corridor, screeching for help.

An older man had already appeared from around the corner, searching for the origin of the scream and catching the woman in her single-minded attempt to flee. Eyes catching sight of the broken door before finally finding their way to Shen, he seemed to slowly make sense of the panic, sighing heavily and soothing the frightened creature beside him. A thick hand ushered her gently behind him, calmly instructing her to find her mother. Giving one last terrified look towards Shen, she threw her a father cautioning frown before disappearing around the corner, soft footsteps dampening with distance.

“Peace be upon you friend”, came the polite familiar greeting; the man raising empty calloused hands as if to prove he intended no harm.

And realizing how he must have appeared, Shen strove to collect himself and calm his frenzied heart, offering an apologetic nod and returning the greeting formally. “Upon us all”, he managed tiredly. “Please, I—”

“Your companion is safe. We’re looking after him. My daughter Sen found you two stumbling into the village in the dead of night. Said you blurted a storm of words and collapsed--”

“Where is he?”

“As I said, friend—” he pressed reassuringly, “— he’s fine now. He was very helpful. Thanked us and explained everything at an ungodly hour. But he’s resting now. Mystic’s orders. It think he’s earned that much. Best you leave him be, yes?”

Shen swallowed heavily, inhaling sharply through his nose and exhaling slowly in the hopes to steady himself and appear less threatening; but it was painfully obvious that he would not take no for an answer. Even now, his posture spoke of a man who would be led nowhere he did not willingly wish to go, and certainly not without first having seen to his brother and confirming his safety with his own eyes.

Just as he turned to inquire of his whereabouts, the young woman from earlier reappeared from around the corner with fresh supplies and a calmer albeit still skittish demeanor.

“Sen, why not take this man to his companion?”, spoke the man tenderly, accurately reading his body language. “Best put the poor soul’s heart at ease, yes?”. Gently he pushed his daughter forward encouragingly and gave Shen a reassuring smile and nod. “I’ll let the mystic know you’re awake”

The young woman eyed him uncertainly before her shoulders ever so slowly relaxed. She gave her father a sheepish nod in return, carefully adjusting the supplies in her arms before slowly making her way uncomfortably towards Shen; stopping some three feet from where he stood. He towered over her diminutive stature, which seemed to shrink in response to his impassable form; there may as well have been a mountain blocking her path. But Shen only stared back quietly in return, patiently waiting to be led.

“Zed, yes?” came the timid inquiry.

Surprise concealed, Shen only continued to eye her with increasing scrutiny as she cowered in embarrassment beneath his hardening look. As if realizing the suspiciousness of her own actions, she quickly interjected, “You mentioned his name several times when I found you… And when you were sleeping”. Upon being met with silence, she took this as an invitation to continue speaking, fear now replaced with a coquettish smile and flushed cheeks.

“He was very agreeable when he awoke. And your concern for him is quite endearing”

“He was… agreeable?”, He was certain the confusion-ridden features of the young woman’s face rivaled his on at that moment. And unsure of what to make of his words, she decided to move past them.

“I… I apologize for earlier… We don’t often see your kind—”

“Our kind?” he inquired dryly, largely disinterested but hoping to learn something of where they were.

“Oh n-no! I didn’t mean—I meant no offense, it’s not as though we discriminate against any of the Orders! We’ve even had a Shojin Monk pass through once before! I just meant—”

“What makes you think we belong to any Order at all?”

Shuffling nervously where she stood, the woman confessed meagerly “The… the Mystic said so. He’s very wise… It was I that took you both to him! He always knows what to do!”

When Shen made no move to respond, she jumped excitedly on the opportunity to shift topics, pressing on unimpeded, “The other night, you were a frightening sight! I’d thought perhaps I’d had the misfortune to encounter some grudgeful spirit. But then I saw your friend… and you said something about poison, so I awoke the Mystic immediately to have a look at you both!”, she professed proudly, taking an earnest step forward.

“Your friend was very ill… You’re both very lucky I found you”. She added with obvious delight. And swaying slightly where she stood, she smiled up at him expectantly as though waiting for something in return. But she was met only with a stony expression, one that seemed to weigh her story carefully.

“…I don’t recall anything aside from running through the woods. Certainly not arriving here and speaking to anyone…”, Uneasy and unsatisfied, he knew himself well enough to know that his mind was still too focused elsewhere to solve anything now. But he had at least uncovered a point of interest to investigate after more important matters were attended to. And for what felt like the 10th time that minute, he pressed his urgency by ending whatever conversation the woman seemed intent on having.

“Please take me to him”

His commanding voice seemed only to inspire her fleetness of foot, and she all but danced around him in the narrow corridor. Tray of supplies in hand, she made her way quickly down the hall, all the while occasionally glancing back to ensure she was still being followed and stopping only once she reached yet another fragile looking door. One which appeared, as most of the wooden abode did, to be holding on for dear life.

“He’s resting inside here”, she whispered, moving slightly out of the way and gesturing politely for Shen to enter. His hand steadily reached for the handle but stopped just centimeters away. And suddenly, he found himself paralyzed in place.

Zed was inside.

He inhaled and exhaled heavily.

Zed was just beyond this door.

Where did he even begin?

His mind was immediately flooded, he felt overwhelmed and agitated. And surely, he had every right to be. Within the past several days they had been ambushed, poisoned, brawled, argued viscerally, fought for survival against time, and… well other less pertinent interactions. And to add on, his cryptic memory of a dream could not have come at a more unwelcomed time. Why couldn’t things be simple when it came to his brother? Had anything ever been simple when it came to the two of them? Reflecting upon his dream, he’d like to think that once upon a time things had at least been… clearer.

A part of him hoped that the man inside was still asleep, if only to allow him a moment to gather his thoughts. But without realizing it, his hand had already closed the distance, resting steadily  upon the wooden handle. And even he could not deny how fiercely he wished simply to see the man alive and well. Inhaling deeply he slowly pushed the door aside.

And Gold was immediately greeted by crimson. Crimson that gratefully still held life.

For several moments neither of them moved, seemingly content to leave things as they were for now, but as the moment was drawn out Shen could feel the woman behind him shift impatiently. He felt his heart clench at the sight of Zed sitting against the headboard with a flimsy linen blanket drawn to his waist, one leg pulled up as if he had been trying to find a comfortable position on a cot which he too was clearly much too large for. Alabaster skin was visibly riddled with scars and discolorations even from where he stood, and his shirt lay folded on a small stump of wood serving as a bedside table. The incredibly plain and empty room was not much unlike the one Shen had awoken in; and aside from the cot and table, the only piece of furniture was a simple wooden chair positioned beside the bed.

Shen allowed himself a sigh of relief and Zed only continued to hold his gaze with an unreadable expression. He could not help but notice how drained and exhausted they both appeared to be. How tragically tired they both were. Not just physically, but mentally. Spiritually.

It was clear the past few days had only drained them. Clear that their lives would only continue to slowly drain them. But in this moment they both seemed to at least respect that much of one another.

Curious as to the lack of movement or interaction, the young woman peered from behind Shen and chirped happily upon seeing Zed awake. “Ah! What fantastic timing! This will be easier now that you’re awake. The Mystic insisted we regularly check your wounds”, she finished cheerily, trying with little avail to find a way around the mountain that presently blocked the entrance to the room. Zed’s eyes continued to hold his, and Shen did not once allow the connection to break. Not even when he suddenly pivoted where he stood and took the tray of medical supplies from Sen’s arms; who yelped in sharp protest.

“But the Mystic--!!”

“We appreciate the privacy, I will see to him now”, he managed before abruptly closing the door and shutting out the remainder of her outcry. When her footsteps could be heard furiously disappearing down the hall, silence finally settled within the small room, and for several more seconds Shen merely held his position by the door.

Zed watched him patiently. As though waiting. And Shen resisted the strong urge to blurt everything out into the open all at once within a single strained breath. To ask about the accusations he had so pointedly made of their Order. To uncover how much of it was true. To discover where they had gone so wrong. And, with no small measure of dread, to inquire as to how much his brother recalled of the other night – though he felt admittedly less inclined to ask the later.

But above all else, he simply felt compelled to express how relieved he was to see him alive and well.

The questions his mind supplied him seemed endless, and given this rare chance he might have besieged his trapped companion. But one look upon his haggard features and Shen felt his efforts cease before they had begun; and despite his own insatiable thirst for answers, he manages instead to settle on a simple neutral opening.

“They tell me you’ve been taken to a Mystic”

Wine red orbs continue to watch him impassively, striking despite their obvious exhaustion. And even now he felt exposed, as though those eyes were piercing through his skull, freely exploring all the questions he had initially sought to conceal. Zed made no move to respond, but taking his first step away from the door, Shen pressed forward undiscouraged by the silence.

“They were kind to take strangers into their home. I cannot think of many that would be so generous”. Still nothing. And perhaps it was his own exhaustion, or that he no longer felt the desire to restrain or control his tone, but Shen could all but feel his frustrations steadily rise.

“Are you truly going to continue to ignore me after everything that’s just happened?” His voice, while still leveled, held an uncommon reprimanding tone. One that would have had even their master surprised at his obvious loss of self-control. But Zed only continued to watch him with unflinching stillness; and it wasn’t until he spoke that Shen felt the tension that had been building on his shoulders slowly dissipate.

“I’m not ignoring you”

“You haven’t said a word—”

“You haven’t said anything to merit a response” he interrupted plainly.

Shen searched the man’s eyes with concealed irritation and disbelief, his initial reaction one of restless, vivid frustration. But he was not so foolish that he would fail to catch wind of what had truly just taken place – of what he had been offered. Zed seemed to casually busy himself with his blanket, a piece of rough textured linen now caught between his thumb and forefinger; absentmindedly inspecting the cloth. His actions until now may have seemed of little significance, but in truth they were deceptively much more complex. As were most things, it would appear, when it came to his brother.

With Zed, it was never always about what was said, but what went unspoken. Not the actions he took, but those he decided against. And in this particular occasion, Shen knew to place an insurmountable weight on the fact that the man had not yet astringently demanded he leave. That his questions were being humored at all.  
Was Zed inviting him to stay? To speak? Were they to have their first real conversation in years? He was certain that such a notion might appear the musings of a madman to any sane outsider, that it was ludicrous to feel as profoundly ecstatic as he felt now at the prospect of having a conversation.

But Shen knew this for what it truly was, and it was no small triumph. A victory in disguise.

Tentatively he continued, half expecting another session rich with visceral language and physical assaults. And while it would appear his companion was in an inexplicably well-behaved mood, he knew to tread lightly all the same. Fearful of history repeating itself, he opted for a safe opening to gauge what liberties he had graciously been allowed.

“Are you well?”

Zed’s expression remained unchanged, but Shen was certain he had caught a glimpse of calloused hands faltering in their absent-minded exploration of the linen. And instantly, an uncomfortable knot formed in his chest. For a moment he wondered if his brother had expected a different question.

“I plan to be”, he responded dryly after a long pause. His low, uncharacteristically leveled tone of voice making Shen grow somewhat uneasy. But grateful to have received any response at all, he nodded quietly in acceptance, reminding himself to take things slow.

“…and the poison?”, he inquired thoughtfully, carefully making his way further into the room with slow deliberate steps, as though he were approaching some skittish prey. Or visceral predator. Tray of supplies in hand, he cautiously gambled to take his seat upon the single wooden chair drawn up beside the bed. And to his immense relief and immeasurable surprise, the man did not outwardly protest his bold move. Instead, Zed only grimaced in response to his question, his first clear reaction to anything thus far.

“The Mystic is fond of Navori leeches”, and tugging the blanket aside he exposed his injured leg which, on top of the arrow wound, was now riddled with a string of welts and bruises. Shen’s nose scrunched in sympathy, disgust even. His own first sincere reaction since entering. But however small, it seemed to hold his brother’s attention.

“You’re welcome to take my place beside the Mystic again tonight. It’s hardly a pleasant experience.”

Shen’s eyes wandered along the exposed, muscular thigh, tracing the deep purple and dark red welts that circled the initial arrow wound; observing how they sat in stark contrast with the surrounding flesh. A lump began to form in his throat, and his mind involuntarily rebounded to the events leading to today. To the hot lips that had once pressed itself against his own. Clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away, he recovered only through channeling his attention into a delayed response.

“I can scarcely imagine any situation where leeches would be pleasant”

“The leeches were fine. It’s the Mystic whom I could do without”

Shen’s lips tugged into a momentary smile instinctively at the quip, but froze when he realized that the unconscious reaction had garnered a sharp, unrelenting interest in his brother’s eyes. And suddenly he could not help but feel as though he had committed some sort of taboo. It wasn’t as though he had consciously been making an effort not to smile, just that few things sincerely drew one out of him. He could feel the sharpened crimson gaze watching him with increased scrutiny, but decisively elected to evade the reach of his brother’s eyes by dropping his attention to the tray of supplies and water basin atop his lap; self-consciously catching sight of his own muddled reflection in the water.

Taking advantage of this brief moment of respite, he summoned back his self-control and tried to appear preoccupied with the tools he had been given; less his sudden urge to break eye contact be interpreted as an admission guilt. Picking up the washcloth and gently allowing it to soak within the basin, he ventured to appear unphased.

“Then, you are cured?”. There was a long pause, and Shen could not help but suspect the man was deciding whether or not to him slide. And to his relief, his brother eventually spoke, though his voice had returned to its initial impassiveness.

“That remains to be seen”

Hands not once pausing in their mindless fumbling of supplies, Shen kept his eyes focused on the washcloth while still trying to mask any excessive concern in his voice. “Then how can we be certain?”

“I’m not dead by this time tomorrow”

Golden eyes snapped viciously back to his brother in rage, ready to make his disapproval known, but stiffened upon quickly realizing that he had fallen into a trap. Zed’s line of sight had not once shifted since he had initially looked away, as though waiting for his Shen's eyes to inevitably return to his. And once again, he found himself locked in place. It was then that he rightfully concluded that the man before him still knew exactly how to get under his skin.

“Were you looking for a less pragmatic answer?”

“No”, Shen began calmly. He would not allow himself to be toyed with. “It is the message that matters most, not your delivery of it. What’s important is your health, and I only wished to be certain of it—”

“Why?” came the sudden interruption. And caught off guard, Shen brows only furrowed in confusion. Had the question been dipped in its usual acidic tone, he might have allowed it to pass as yet another indignant remark. But it had instead been asked plainly, and somehow this only proved to make it sound more unsettling.

“What do you mean? You know why”

“No. I don’t. I know why you _think_ you’re concerned. I’m asking why you feel the need to continue fueling this elaborate sibling fiction”.

Wounded but steadfast all the same, Shen’s lips pulled into a tight, stern line. “It is no fiction to me”.

His brother only seemed to grow more distraught by this reassurance, and Shen in turn felt his heart sink. As soon as the words had left his mouth, it was Zed’s turn to look away. As though the physical act would somehow provide him with an escape. As though he would have much rather not heard the words at all. But Shen was beyond allowing him his small escapes, not after days of silence. And hoping to be allowed yet another small mercy, he pressed forward boldly.

“Let me see your wounds—” he began reaching with the damp cloth in hand for the welts but was abruptly shut out when the man visibly recoiled from his touch and immediately flung the blanket over his leg once more.

“That won’t be necessary”

“Why must you be this stubborn?” Shen growled irritably, his patience long since wearing thin. “It was exactly this kind of irrationally uncooperative behavior that landed us in this situation in the first place”.

Scarlet eyes began to glow with a familiar rage, “If memory serves it was by _your_ shortcomings that I was injured at all”, he barked defensively, somehow managing to appear threatening despite his debilitated state on the bed. “And the only _mistake_ was this arrangement, which has led to nothing but misery for us both”

“Then why bother risking yourself at all?” Shen bit back bitterly, “What have I done but allowed you your space and submitted to your inexplicable desire for isolation?”

And seemingly hitting a chord, Zed snarled back viciously in outrage “ _Desire_ for isolation!? It was _you_ and _yours_ that saw me alienated within the very walls that were once my home! I am more welcome here, in the bed and at the mercy of complete strangers, than I have been within the walls of the Kinkou monastery for years!”. Tempers feeding into one another, Shen only felt his anger only grow with every exchange of venom dipped accusations.

“And that is by no fault of your own!? Do not pretend your attitude has played no role in your condemnation! You blame everyone but yourself, and _me_ most of all! Surely then you must regret not allowing the Vastayan to meet his mark so you might finally be done with me”

“And incur further the wrath of our clan?”, Zed scoffed in disgust. “Their detest towards me is in no short supply, they would likely believe I slay their beloved Heir myself. No. The cleanest end to this would have been for _you_ to turn around and walk away the moment you happened upon me on the trail. I’ve none that would mourn my absence”

And hardly able to digest the words he was hearing, Shen felt his blood reaching a boiling point beneath his flesh, “Is that what you believe?”

“It is”, Zed seethed bitterly.

“I rush to your aid and you would still deny me? You would meet me instead with disgust and animosity?” he declared furiously, nearly raising from where he sat and spilling the supplies.

“Is this not what you desired!? Or did you imagine our conversations would be ridden with sweet assertions of your _obsessive_ sibling fantasy—”

“I’m sorry”

The apology hung heavily between them both, and time seemed to all but freeze if only to suspend it there while a deafening silence slowly swallowed the room; one that steadily displaced the rapidly growing tension that sought to suffocate them both. Zed sat as still as death, eyes reflecting nothing short of astonishment, as though he were uncertain of what he had heard. And one could see the apology visibly registering upon his momentarily dazed features, which grew more solemn as he did quiet. There was a tenseness in his shoulders that did not leave, but noticeably relaxed in the wake of the storm; and Shen could feel confused scarlet eyes fervently searching his own for an explanation. For answers. For anything.

“I’m sorry” Shen began again, swallowing sharply and trying to steady his hands, which had all but begun shaking beneath his simmering temper. “I…What I meant to say…”, he fumbled uncharacteristically over his own tongue, searching helplessly for the words that best captured his anguish.

“What I mean to say is that…I do not believe that, however much trouble you claim me to be or however much you would see fit to deny that we are family, that you would ever willingly allow serious harm to come to me. And that however much you claim to deny it, I’m certain that I am still a brother in your eyes—”

“Then why insinuate it? Are you a child that requires my assurances” He interrupted heatedly, likely intending to sound more accusatory than agonized. And as if to drive the knife deeper he added his finale acerbically.

“I have not looked upon you as my brother in many years”

For a moment, Shen could do nothing but allow the words to unwillingly sink in, like shards of dull glass forcing itself through layers of flesh. He struggled not to appear as wounded as he felt. Struggled to ignore the part of him that threatened to wither away in silence as cracks infested the pillars that once protected all which he held dear from the watery grave below; from the empty,boundless, blackened ocean that sought to drown him. And hardly able to collect the composure or mental fortitude to address the burgeoning turmoil within, he chose instead to ignore the pain. No, survival demanded he ignore pain.

“You must owe a great deal of credence to humans if you believe all but children are spared from their doubts…”

“I would owe them a great deal more if they spared me from the pettiness of their insecurities. And you’ve clearly demonstrated that you experience no such reservation when it comes to doubting me in particular”

“Is it wrong of me to wonder of your motives?...”, Shen responded solemnly. “I am guilty of my doubts, yes. But if you refuse to speak to me, all I am left with is speculation”.

“You’re not a child. You don’t require anyone’s permission or approval to feel or think what you will, least of all mine. But do not insult me and then play the victim”

“For the last time—”, Shen insisted with some small measure of desperation. “It is not my intention to insult you—"

“Then what are your intentions? Because I am certainly blind to them. Do enlighten me as to what you hope to gain by berating me with questions. If it is to satisfy your strange obsession, then you are wasting your tim—”

“Is this how things are to be between us?” Shen interjected despondently, weary eyed and still nurturing the wounds of his brother’s most recent confession. “Are we doomed to repeat a vicious cycle of verbal evisceration at every chance we exchange words? Of course I did not expect our first conversation to be free of conflict… But have I fallen so far from your good graces that you would find insult in all that I say? In all that I have yet to say?”

Somber scarlet eyes seemed to reflect a buried torment of its own, one that Shen longed to be made known to him. But Zed answered only with silence, shifting his gaze elsewhere as if refusing to entertain the question.

“Would you at least spare a moment of reason to disclose the manner of your disapproval of me?”, Shen pressed pleadingly. “If it is some unconscious thing, then make it known to me such that I might rectify it—”

“If you believe my disapproval can be captured in but a moment, then there is no hope in your understanding of it…” came the dry, forlorn riposte.

“Do you hold me in so low a regard that you would not even bring yourself to try?”, golden orbs willed desperately for scarlet eyes to return to his, but Zed only seemed to sink dispiritedly into the bed; his gaze silently drawn through the window to the mountain in the distance. Shen felt a budding sense of worry grip him, concerned that this was his brother’s silent way of ending the conversation. But he waits patiently nonetheless. Hoping that with time, the reclusive man might collect his thoughts. That he might realize he need not seek asylum elsewhere.

Shen observed a weariness in his eyes, a tiredness to him that he had scarcely seen before. A sort of resignation that his brother might have once formally likened to weakness of will. And scarlet eyes seemed to trace the skyline, as though he were imaging himself somewhere far away.

“To what end?”, Zed began quietly, his voice so close to a whisper than Shen almost wondered if he had imagined the words altogether. “For what purpose?”

In an equally hushed tone, Shen spoke with a pained sincerity. “To restore what was”, he began earnestly, “To put an end to whatever it is that I’m doing which brings you so much pain. And admittedly to add some much-needed clarity to your character”. Since awakening, he had been met with notably abnormal feedback from their hosts in regards to his usually astringent sibling, and he would be lying if he did not admit that it had been gnawing at him slowly for the duration of his time here.

As though finally interested, Zed seemed to return from wherever his eyes had taken him, slowly surrendering his attention; the weariness there still painfully present. “My character?”

“I… Since beginning our journey, I have heard such varied accounts of you“, he began reluctantly, recalling the positive remarks that their hosts had somehow seen fit to describe his temperamental traveling companion. “Between that of our fellow clansman and these villagers… it’s as though they’re describing a different man altogether.” He confessed with no small degree of uncertainty. Zed seemed to weigh him and his words with more mindfulness that he had anticipated, but there was an openness to his expression. A readiness to listen and be heard.

“Then perhaps you ought to pay less mind to the pernicious poisons of every passerby and rely on your own judgments of me”, and despite their firmness, the words had not been spoken harshly. “Once upon a time, that was enough for you”

“You’ve hardly made yourself accessible—”

“And you have hardly tried”

His defense quickly silenced, Shen swallowed his words and nodded admittedly, the weight of his guilt causing his head to hang low. There was truth to his brother’s accusation, even he was willing to accept that much. Whether it be duty or cowardice, there came a point where approaching his brother seemed an impossible task, more risk than reward.

“That you would liken our fellow clansmen’s remarks to poison would suggest you are more certain of yourself than I… I’m curious what kind of man you know yourself to be?”, Shen observed sincerely, but was met challengingly in return.

“Someone much more ' _accessible'_ than you care to believe”. 

Weighing the words and gambling upon their implications, he slowly found himself building the courage to confront his brother while they were still both inclined to being honest. “And I? If I am no longer a brother to you, then what am I? What is _your_ judgement of me?”. After a brief silence, warily he adds, “There are times I wonder if you’ve truly grown to hate me”

And despite instinct telling him otherwise, he held his brother’s gaze, and in turn allowed his own to be held. But almost immediately he regretted his frankness; tormented by the silence that ensued almost as much as he dreaded finally hearing the words that would break it. Or break him.

“Hate?” Shen felt himself grow rigid as word left his brother’s lips, his brittle sentiments now entirely at the mercy of the man before him.

“If I were to say I hate you, then you should be glad of it”

Perturbed, words poured defensively from his Shen’s now unrestrained mouth. “How could I possi—”

“Because it is more merciful for me to hate you than to feel absolutely nothing towards you. Because hate can still serve as a tie to bind us. Because I must _think_ of you to hate you. Reserve some part of me to _feel_ that hate. And the day I stop hating you will be the day you should truly begin to worry”

“Zed—”

“Enough. I saved your life and you saved mine. Consider whatever debt I suspect you’re harboring paid in full. If you are looking for permission, then I give you leave to relinquish whatever is compelling you to force these interactions”

“I speak with you through no will but my own, and certainly not from a place of guilt” Shen asserted firmly, throwing his companion an unrelenting glare that clearly announced he would not be convinced otherwise. “You’d do well to realize that it is you that continues to stoke the flames and drive a wedge between us”.

“And _you_ would do well to tread carefully. Need I remind you that it was _you_ that pulled away first all these years, not I”, he countered contemptuously. “Though I imagine your selective memory only serves to recall what doesn’t conflict with the man you imagine yourself to be”

“It was never my intention to push you away”, Shen offered dejectedly, and upon hearing the words, his brother only seems to noticeably age; the returning weariness now compounding upon him.

“No”, he admitted reluctantly after a long silence. “Perhaps not. But true as that may be, it was inevitable that you would”, came the solemn admission, as though some small pain had finally been laid to rest only to make room for another. One of hundreds he suspected his brother harbored.

“It doesn’t need to be this way. I’ve always hoped to return to how things were, surely I am not alone in thi—”

“You would not truly desire what you ask if you knew what it meant” Zed warned arduously, as though he already possessed to foresight to witness whatever tragedy would inevitably befall them both.

“I’m not asking you to embrace me like a brother as you once did, but at least do not treat the very ground I tread upon as salted soil”. His brother’s reluctance only seemed to grow, but Shen could undoubtedly see his offer at least being sincerely taken into consideration. Zed had never been an unreasonable man. In fact it was likely his stubborn attachment towards arguing his point that garnered him so much resentment in the first place.

“Clearly many things have changed… and there is no sense imposing assumptions on each other when the person we have came to know may no longer exist”, Shen added tentatively, hoping not to make his offer appear as though he were asking the world of his caustic companion. “Perhaps we ought to start from the beginning. Relearn each other, if you will”. Instinct told him to treat the situation delicately, but greed ushered him to press for a more immediate response; the entirety of his five senses seemed to sharpen in attunement to any sign that might hint towards his brother’s inclination. But he was met only with a tortuously long and thoughtful silence.

At the sound of Zed exhaling in fatigue, Shen felt himself lean ever so slightly forward in his chair, eager to hear the final judgement that might make or break their brotherhood; though the gesture earned him a sharp look of irritation.

“Very well”

Relief flooded him in waves, a sea of reprieve washing away the anxiety that threatened control him. “I’m pleased to hear—”

“I’m not finished”, Zed interrupted warningly. “If I agree to this, we conduct it on _my_ terms”

Slightly less convinced but still obviously elated from his earlier success, he prodded cautiously, wary of ruining what progress they had made. “You have…terms?” The crimson daggers he received in kind reminded him that his victory would just as easily be rescinded, and Shen sat back in his chair obediently; wisely choosing silence and inviting the man to continue; allowing himself to be weighed carefully, as though the man were taking his time to decide whether or not his participation would be a worthy investment in the long run, or would only lead to the downfall he had earlier envisioned.

“One question” Zed offered sternly.

“One question?” Shen inquired, clearly as perplexed as he was dissatisfied with the direction of their conversation.

“Per day”, Zed finished plainly.

Making no move to mask his disapproval, Shen reiterated the offer, as though hoping his brother might more easily digest its ridiculousness if he'd heard it from a mouth other than his own, “I am allowed to ask you one question?”

“Per day”, Zed repeated firmly, undeterred.

“Per day…” Shen re-affirmed disappointedly, but entirely at the mercy of his cooperation.

“To which I will guarantee you my complete honesty”, his brother supplemented rigidly; and interest rekindled, Shen sat up in his seat once more, clearly making his revived approval known.

“Go on?”

Zed’s eyes maintained its sharp, calculating look before allowing himself to continue. “In turn, I expect the same of you. One question a day, to which you must provide nothing short of the _absolute_ and _whole_ truth. And it would be in both our interests to ensure candidness. Should I suspect even the slightest hint of a lie or withholding of information—”

“You have my word” Shen declared, perhaps too eagerly. But to his immense surprise, this seemed to be enough for the man, who only huffed roughly in return before decisively pulling his attention away to peek beneath the covers and inspect his own leg. Shen allowed himself to relax into his chair, as though enjoying a much-deserved rest after some long and taxing battle, content to merely revel in his hard-earned victory.

“We have a truce then?” he clarified with blossoming satisfaction, longing to see where this test of normalcy may take them and predictably earning himself a sharp scoff of irritation.

“Don’t press your luck”, Zed remarked dryly, his attention still focused upon tending to his own wounds beneath the blanket. And inspired by his latest triumph, possibly unjustifiably, Shen found himself galvanized; eager and more willing to take bolder risks towards mending their relationship.

“Let me see to your wounds—” He offered once more, re-saturating the washcloth with clean water and wringing it expectantly; ignoring the cautioning look blatantly thrown his way.

“What did I just say?”, Zed seethed warningly. But undeterred, he pressed forward, reaching with his free hand to shift the blanket aside so that he might begin administering his care albeit forcibly. Viciously, a hand shot out and caught his wrist, the tips of his fingers but centimeters away from the linen-draped leg; scarlet eyes brimming with defiance. Shen gave his brother an admonishing frown, and only upon relaxing his own reach did the death-grip upon his wrist slacken in return.

“Greed is unbecoming of you—” Zed began, as though preparing to berate him with some cleverly constructed criticism towards his character, but Shen unhesitatingly used it as an opportunity to whisk the blanket from atop the man, exposing him entirely aside from his undergarments and discarding the flimsy weave haphazardly behind him.

For several moments there was only silence and disbelief. The calm before the storm. But it wasn’t long until crimson orbs seemed to accumulate enough malice and contempt to fuel a nation’s war cries. Enough outrage and revulsion to feed an era of conquerors. And in stark contrast, Shen’s impassive features only spoke of a man with absolutely no regrets.

“I’ll consider your cooperation an act of good will”, he announced calmly, but Zed’s rage only seemed to boil silently beneath the surface, crimson daggers all but commanding Shen to stand this very instant and retrieve the blanket less he be subjected to a more violent and gruesome death.

“Allow me this?”, he pressed earnestly once more, his brother’s temper seemingly beginning to simmer to a more flexible albeit still distraught state of mind, his discomfort only seeming to grow the longer the situation was drawn out.

“Just be done with it already” he surrendered painfully, trying with little avail to maintain a position of power and establish himself as the deciding factor. Shen moistened the washcloth once more before adjusting himself closer on his chair, an act that saw his brother stiffening in sharp disapproval but otherwise making no obvious move to interfere further. And despite being granted express permission to continue, all the courage that he had managed to muster seemed to suddenly abandon him when he needed it most. Shen’s thoughts unwillingly wandering to the bare flesh laid before him, riddled with gashes and scars, overlapping and intersecting; each with a tale of its own. For each flaw he recognized, there were 10 more he did not; and vaguely he could not help but reflect on the time they had spent apart.

A lump began to form in his throat at the hypnotic sight, imperfections and all. He had not seen his sibling this exposed since they were much, much younger; and there was no mistaking the burly form before him now with that of a boy’s. Taut skin seemed to wrap itself around his robust build, as though encaging an iron rod rather than flesh and bone. And muscles seemed to ripple beneath the surface of his chest and clearly defined abdomen with even the slightest expansion of his lungs. Like a sculpted slate of stone, he would be a fool not to admit that the man was absolutely mesmerizing; that he seemed to encapsulate the glory of the male form in its entirety. But upon seeing the wiry figure grow tense beneath his gaze, Shen realized that he had done nothing short of stare for several seconds. And daring not to meet his brother’s eyes in fear that the man might somehow read this thoughts, he gingerly brought the washcloth to the afflicted flesh, dabbing any excessive discharge that had begun to crust around the wounds. The brawny leg seemed to stiffen beneath his attentive touch, and it undeniably incited something within him. Something that began to stir uneasily.

Carefully, he continued his ministrations, sweeping the moistened cloth with slow deliberate motions across the hardened surface, his knuckles occasionally peering from behind the rag and grazing against the warm flesh beneath. Flesh that seemed to struggle not to shudder against these brief moments of unguarded contact. Flesh that tinged the faintest shade of red when the textured cloth spend too long working upon a single area. His reach only continued to expand, as if intoxicated by the authority he had temporarily been given, cloth dipping ever so slightly towards Zed’s inner thigh; just inches away from the meager piece of fabric that sought to conceal what still remained hidden. Beads of water trailed down his thigh, soaking the fabric beneath, and Shen’s eyes traced their hypnotic path. He could feel the other man’s eyes upon him, studying his every movement, reading the intent behind every touch; and somehow it only served to spur him to continue more boldly.

Zed’s breathing seemed to grow shallow, and Shen suspected it was due to some suppressed urge to brutally strike him for forcing his aid. But when curiosity drew his eyes upward away from his work, his own breath hitched in surprise. Scarlet eyes that might typically conquer most men through raw intimidation alone seemed to reflect something else, something entirely unrecognizable. And unspoken words seemed to sit upon an enthralling pair of lips; lips that Shen shamefully fought vehemently not to imagine against his own. And for a brief moment of panic, he wondered if his brother recalled their heated exchange from the other night.

Zed’s lips slowly part as though he’s about to say something, and utterly entranced, Shen instinctively leans in to hear the words. But before any sounds are formed, a brief knock on the door was followed by the sudden appearance of the man from earlier, causing Shen to abruptly put distance between them and sit upright in his chair.

Briefly, he caught sight of something flash upon his brother’s features, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. Injury? Shame?

Opening the door further, and glancing between them, the man seemed to dismiss the odd behavior and instead smiled apologetically, eyeing them both with kind, dark eyes. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No”, Shen answered assertively, more to himself than anyone else. And for whatever reason, he could no longer bring himself to face his brother.

“I’ve just spoken with the Mystic, he’d like to see you both as soon as you’re ready. Though I must insist that you share supper with us first”, he offered politely, a sincere smile crossing his features.

“We wouldn’t wish to impose—“, Shen began defensively, but was silenced immediately.

“I insist. You are our guests. And guests do not go hungry beneath this roof. Less the lady of the house unleash her wrath and we all need pay the Mystic a visit, yes?”, he chuckled humorously.

“No, I suppose we can’t have that”, Shen conceded before finishing politely. “We would be honored to share a meal with you”.

Satisfied with his answer, the man bowed ever so slightly, “The honor is ours”. And with that, he quietly shut the door.

Several moments of silence passed before Shen could turn to face his brother, but whatever traces upon his features that he had caught a glimpse of earlier were now non-existent. Wordlessly, he resumed his task, cleansing the remaining wounds left by the leeches before silently reaching for the fresh pair of bandages that had been provided; carefully nudging the man to lift his leg so he might begin re-wrapping the exposed injuries.

But calmly and without a word, Zed silently collects the bandages from his loosed grip, and oddly mindful of the tension that seemed to hang in the air Shen allows it; waiting with an inexplicable guilt for the man to finish. But guilty of what exactly? What could he have possibly done to cause such offense? Why was he to take the blame for everything that went wrong?

Tiredly, he rubbed his eyes, exhaling deeply as though he might expel the growing tension within him in a single breath. And wanting nothing more than to move past this moment and resume their progress, his mind searched tirelessly for a topic of conversation, finally settling on one of some interest.

“Corydalis is an interesting substance to keep on hand” he threw out casually, hoping it would at least serve to ease them back into speaking terms. What he did not expect was the way crimson orbs seemed to immediately lock onto him, controlled restraint reflected in their glassy surface.

“What do you mean?”, came the steady tone, inspiring an alertness in Shen, if not slight suspicion.

“I found your supply.We might not have made it had I not used it to sedate you”, he clarified with increasing levels of skepticism. “But I’m curious as to why you would carry it at all. I’ve never known you to supplement your weapons with toxi—”

“Is that your question for today?”, he interrupted, his tone growing serious and impassive. Cautiously, Shen searched his eyes, but found no trace of what had been there before. Not the brief flash of pain, nor the warmth he had dreamt.

“No”, he answered after a brief pause, battling against his own curiosity so as not to waste his chance to ask what he will. “But rest assured, I will have asked one before the day ends”

Tiredly, Zed turns once more to seek asylum from the mountain in the distance, weariness returning to his features. “Then think carefully what you ask”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit i'm not entirely fond of the writing in this chapter. It's certainly going the direction I intended, but it just hardly feels as eloquent ( ; A ; ) At one point the daunting size of it discouraged me from investing too much time in rewriting several portions like I typically might. And aw hell, i'm sure its littered with grammatical issues (which I encourage you to point out to me). But anyway, I'm just glad I get to continue this fic now :D
> 
> This chapter has a lot of different paces (i'm experimenting as I go), but I chose certain rhythms to match their themes (i.e. Shen's slow, dead-beat apathetic musings vs his witty exchanges as a youth with Zed). Hopefully the change kept things a bit more lively, but things do definitely speed up after this chapter. 
> 
> Finally (and most importantly), I can't thank everyone enough for the comments and feedback you left on the previous chapter! I sincerely love hearing everyone's perspectives and theories on what's to come and what the underlying motivations are :D It's difficult to resist spoiling things when I get eager to reply to you.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the chapter! As usual, let me know what sucked so you hopefully don't have to read it again! (looking at you everyone who told me white-haired Zed is a shit-face and I should never bring him to life -- i swear i've learned my lesson ; v ; )
> 
> EDIT: someone pointed out to me they thought I had made up the Navori isle and that it wasn't an actual place in Ionia. League is still going through their lore overhaul, so i'm not certain of what they've decided to change/keep. Though based on the latest Irelia rework and the references made to the Great Stand of the Placidium, i'm hopeful they don't discard too much. If you're interested to know, the Galrin, Navori, and Shon-Xan isles were occupied for several years during the Noxian invasion of Ionia -- and were only reclaimed only during a legal match where both Noxus and Ionia sent 5 warriors to compete for the rights to the land.
> 
> It was actually to protest against the Noxian occupation of Ionia (as well as to rally Ionia to break its inclination of peace) that you had characters like Lee-Sin setting themselves aflame as public demonstrations. The more you learn I suppose? :D


End file.
